Moulin Rose!
by IvyTheMoonBlossom
Summary: Nowadays Klaine version of Moulin Rouge! Blaine is a dreamy song-writer who has just moved to New York. Kurt is the star of the Moulin Rose, the most famous-and infamous- dancehall in the city. Will their love be strong enough to overcome every obstacle?
1. Chapter 1

There was a boy

A very strange, enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far, very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise

Was he

_The Moulin Rose. A nightclub, a dancehall and a bordello. Ruled over by Sandy Ryerson, Kingdom of night-time pleasures, where the rich played with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most handsome of all these was the man I loved. Kurt. A courtesan, he sold his love to men. They called him the 'Sparkling Diamond'. And he was the star… of the Moulin Rose. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I'm a penniless composer, not a writer. But I feel, that the world should know our story. The man I loved, is…_

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.

Blaine walks inside his new apartment, and lets his rucksack fall on the floor to open his arms, while the brightest of all smiles lights up his face.

There he is. Against his parents and his whole family. He made it.

Alright, perhaps this old and dusty flat on the fifth floor of a building – which looks like it's going to come down soon – is not the luxurious villa in which he's grown up, but he doesn't care. He will get used to it, sooner or later.

He closes the door behind him and walks to the window, staring with adoring eyes at the city beneath him. New York is as amazing as he has always dreamt – even its most horrible neighbourhood.

He knows that he could probably – or better, most certainly – have the most expensive and beautiful flat in Avenue A, if he wanted it. He should just call his parents, and pronounce the words 'I'm sorry, father. I take it all back. I will be a lawyer, I promise.'

But the fact is, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be a lawyer and marry a woman he could never love and have children, just to make his parents happy. He wants to write songs about truth, beauty, freedom and that which he believes in above all things: love. He wants to make art and help people and find the man of his dreams.

So he doesn't care. He doesn't care if he will have to live in a studio flat that stinks and probably has a problem with rats and cockroaches. He doesn't care if he will have to survive with the little amount of money his brother Cooper manages to send him without their parents knowing it.

This is all that he wants. This is all that he needs.

So he flings the window open, letting fresh air inside, and crosses his arms.

His brand new life has just started.

Blaine grabs a pen, and looks at the blank page in front of him.

That's the moment. He will write a song. No, not a song – _the _song. The song about love.

Suddenly, he realises that there's a problem. A big problem.

He has never been in love.

Suddenly, he hears a loud crash that makes him almost fall from his chair. With eyes wide with fear, he turns around slowly, ready to scream or cry for help.

But he has absolutely no voice to scream, because there, hanging by a rope, just fallen from an enormous hole in the roof, covered in dust and lime, is an unconscious, beautiful woman.

Before he can even realise what the hell is happening, a short girl, dressed as a nun, storms in the room. "How do you do?" she asks with a bright smile, and she goes on talking without even trying to listen to an answer. "My name is Rachel Barbra Patti Lea Berry. Well, actually Patti and Lea are not part of my real name, they are just stage names, you know? Like Patti LuPone and Lea Salonga. Because they are stars. And so am I."

She stumbles across the room, trying to avoid the rubbles in her way, and walks to the unconscious woman who is hanging, without stopping talking. Blaine can't even say a word. _Seriously, what the heck-_

"I'm terribly sorry", she declares, touching her chest lightly, "we were upstairs rehearsing a play."

"_What?_" Blaine finally manages to shriek, shocked.

A play. God, it has always been his dream to perform in and write the music for a play. A real play, with professionals and a stage and lights and an audience applauding and crying and laughing out loud-

"A play, I said! The most stunning and breath-taking you've ever seen. It's called _Spectacular Spectacular_. It's set in Switzerland!" she announces, eyes shining with wonder.

Blaine stares at her and then at the hanging woman, blinking.

So there's a girl _hanging by a rope_, because she and the nun – Rachel – were rehearsing a play that is set in Switzerland. _Of course._ Fine. Not weird at all.

Understanding his confusion, Rachel lowers her voice, covering her mouth as if she was telling the most dangerous of all secrets.

"This is Santana. She's Hispanic." she says, pointing at her with her thumb, "she suffers from rage attacks. At least, with me. If she gets angry, she will probably start yelling something about a place called Lima Heights and then will beat you up until you're unconscious. So, sometimes, well, actually every time I can, I spill in her water some kind of _medicine_, we can say. A friend, his name is Sandy, gives it to me; he's very reliable, I swear! Even though I really can't stand him most of the time. Anyway, when her heart pace starts getting too fast, the dru- I mean, the _medicine_, activates and there she is, perfectly ready to beat you up one moment, unconscious the next. I swear I do it for her! Rage isn't good for your body. I've read it. Somewhere" she babbles, without even trying to breathe. And then she breaks up in a laugh.

Blaine's mouth opens and closes, but he isn't able to say a thing. This has to be a dream. It just can't be reality. In real life women don't fall from roofs and people don't give their friends' drugs because they get angry easily. Not even in New York.

… _Right?_

In that moment, two faces spring from the hole: there's an Asian girl with long, black hair, and a black girl with a weird hat on her head.

"How is she?" a guy's voice shouts from upstairs. Blaine can't see him.

"Wonderful! Miss I-Know-It-All is unconscious" the black girl snaps, clearly annoyed, "Now the scenario won't be finished in time to present to Ryerson tomorrow!"

"Rachel, I still have to finish the music!" complains the Asian one, looking as if she's about to start to cry.

"Oh, come on! On Broadway they wouldn't let a thing like that stop the rehearsal! Someone else will read the part." Rachel answers back, moving her hand as if the thing doesn't bother her at all.

"Where on heaven will we find someone to read the part of a 'young, sensitive, Swiss poet'?" yells the black girl again.

Rachel gazes at Blaine, while he is still staring at the two figures above him. When she taps her shoulder, he looks her back.

From the moment he sees her wide, not-at-all reassuring smile, he knows that _this_ will lead to no good.


	2. Freedom, Beauty, Truth and Love

Hi there!

So, here's the new chapter. Basically just everyone getting to know each other and being crazy.

Hope you like it!

* * *

Before he can even realise it, Blaine is upstairs, standing in for the unconscious Hispanic - Santana. He is on a ladder, in front of a wooden mountain, listening to Rachel belting out the lyrics to a song that sounds pretty horrible.

He gazes at the strangers that are with him in the room, and probably already consider themselves as his friends. He has found out that the voice he had heard before belongs to Artie, a guy in a wheelchair, whose glasses and clothes make him look as the biggest of nerds. He shakes his head in frustration, and is holding the script so tight in his hands that his fingers are shaking. He doesn't look pleased, at all.

The black girl - her name is Mercedes - finally finds the courage to stop the torture.

"Oh hell to the no! Stop it!" she bursts out, while Rachel turns to stare at her, eyes wide with outrage.

"How do you dare-

"Rachel, Mercedes is right. This is horrible. You're ruining my play! Why did you even change the lyrics to the song?"

"Because" she explains, putting a hand on her hip, "the lyrics you wrote are meaningless and have no feeling. It looks like they've been written by some kind of heartless automat - don't take it personally, Artie"

_Rachel really doesn't really know the meaning of the word 'tactful', does she?_ Blaine thinks, crossing his arms.

"Oh well, you're irritating and everybody hates you, but don't take _that_ personally" he snaps.

_Ouch._ Blaine really doesn't like where this is going. He tries to open his mouth to stop the argument before it becomes a fight, but Rachel, whose mouth is hanging open, precedes him.

"How could you!"

"Your version of the song was really awful, Rachel" says Tina, the Asian woman, and then turns to the only other man in the room, who still seems really angry, "But Artie, I don't think a nun would ever sing '_the hills animate with the twinkling tunes of illusion_' to some mountains". She looks so sorry, as she speaks, that it almost breaks Blaine's heart.

"Yeah! It should be something more like '_The hills' sound makes my heart pound, as I go oh-oh-oh!_"

"That's enough, I'm leaving."

A door bangs.

"Artie, please!"

"That thing before sounded too ghetto even for you, Mercedes"

"Oh yeah? Find something better then, Barbra!"

"I sure can!"

Then everybody starts shouting and screaming and singing and Mercedes looks like she's seriously going to beat up Rachel, and Blaine feels his head spin in all this confusion. Are these guys_ always _like this? God, how can anyone even_be_ so loud? The strict severity of his family and the peaceful days in his high school, the Dalton Academy, have never seemed more distant to him: he had been raised to be... quiet. And calm. And he had never, ever met someone like these people who are going on fighting like it was a matter of life or death.

Suddenly an idea flashes through his mind, and it sounds so perfect and _right_ that he just _has_ to say it.

He _is_ a songwriter, after all.

"The hills-" he starts, but no one seems to listen. "The hills-" he tries again, waving his arms in order to get more attention, but Mercedes, Rachel and Tina just keep shouting and shouting and shouting-

"_The hills are alive with the sound of music!"_ he belts out, his voice clear and perfect due to years and years as leader of the school choir.

Instantly, the room falls silent. Tina, Mercedes and Rachel just stare at him and at each other, without being able to say a word.

The door of the attic suddenly flings open and Artie, who stormed out during the argument, gets back in again, his eyes shining in enthusiasm. "The hills are alive with the sound of music._ I love it._ I love it!" he declares, waving the script in his hand.

_"The hills..."_

_"Are alive..."_

"_With the sound of music!"_ sing the three girls, while Tina plays the piano.

"It fits perfectly!" she cries out.

Blaine's face lights up with a smile. "_With songs they have sung for a thousand years_" he sings again, climbing down from the ladder while staring right in her eyes. He looks at his new friends, his smile full of expectation, waiting for some kind of feedback.

Artie lowers his head, and raises both his hands. "This is genius. Genius! Great job" he praises him, before starting clapping. The women join him right after, and Blaine bows to the applause.

"You two should write the music together" Artie suggests, talking to Tina. She nods, before turning to Blaine.

"Would you do that, Blaine?"

_Would you do that, Blaine?_

_Write the music together._

_It fits perfectly!_

_This is genius. Genius!_

_Would you do that, Blaine?_

This words start echoing in his head like a confused melody he doesn't know how to stop_. Would you do that, Blaine?_Oh, he positively would. Definitely would. Yes, yes, yes he does! _Come on, Blaine, you can say it. It's just a simple word, 'yes'. It's not difficult. So why isn't it coming out of your lips? You're dying to do it, Blaine, and you know it. Come on already, just say it!_

"Oh, well, I don't kno-

"Artie, Ryerson will _never_ agree with this! I mean, have you ever written a play before, Blaine?"

A sentence. A simple sentence, just come out from Mercedes' lips, and the world seem to crash right on Blaine's newborn castle of joy.

_Damn it._

"No" he mouths, slowly. He seriously feels like he's about to cry.

Goodbye, dreams of success. Goodbye, glorious future...

"_Come on_, Mercedes!" Rachel complains. Suddenly, the girls and Artie are in a circle, excluding him, and Rachel is speaking again, loud enough for him to hear. "The hills are alive with the sound of music. It's perfect! Almost as good as mine, I'd say. With Blaine writing the lyrics, we could create the bohemian revolutionary show we always dreamt of!"

"I thought that the bohemian revolutionary show of our generation was Rent"

"Of course, Tina, but we could do better, thanks to Blaine's talent and mine - mostly mine, though"

Mercedes still doesn't seem convinced. "But how can we convince Sandy, girl? He will never agree to finance a play written by someone who's not a professional!"

Rachel shakes her head, reaching the woman's shoulder with a hand. "Believe you me, Sandy will agree with anything which is done by a good-looking guy, and Blaine is _definitely_ cute enough. And besides-

Rachel is about to say something, but suddenly stops. She seems to realise something she hadn't thought about before, and her eyes open wide, as she whispers a single name.

"_Kurt._"

"I'm sorry?" Mercedes almost squeaks.

"He's perfect!" Rachel shouts, as she explains her plan. "We will dress Blaine as a gentleman, and pretend he's a famous English writer! When Kurt hears his modern lyrics, he will most definitely be astounded by such a huge talent and will insist with Sandy that Blaine writes the play!"

"Rachel, I'm not sure about this. I mean, he doesn't even sound English-

"Oh, _stop it_! The boy has talent" Artie jumps in the argument, moving next to Blaine and smacking a hand right on his butt. The man must definitely look uncomfortable about it, because the girls start laughing out loud as he feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"Nothing funny. I just like talent" Artie snaps straight after quickly moving his hand back on his lap. He shrugs. "I can't reach your shoulders, you know?", he complains.

"Rachel, we don't even know if he's gay!"

Blaine stares at Mercedes. What _is_ the problem with he-

Wait_, what_?

Why do they have to know if he's _gay_?

"Oh, he doesn't have to be! He'll just pretend. We just have to get him to the Moulin Rose."

Blaine feels his heart stop, jump somewhere in his throat, sink into his stomach and then go back into his chest.

_The Moulin Rose._

He had heard of the Moulin Rose from a friend of his, Sebastian Smythe, who called it once "the most glamorous dancehall in the whole Big Apple".

But as far as he knows, and people have told him, it's not just a dancehall and a nightclub.

It's a bordello, too.

A _gay_ bordello.

Somewhere where young men sell their bodies to rich, heartless, lustful human beings, who still dare to call themselves gentlemen, even thought they're nothing more than animals.

A place like that... where humans are given in exchange for money... Blaine can't even think about going there. He just can't.

He doesn't care about fame and glory and his dreams anymore. He wants nothing to do with a place like this.

"I can't write the show!" he cries out, turning away and crossing his arms nervously.

Not even a second later, Rachel's hand is on his shoulder. "Why not?" she asks, in a worried voice.

Damn it. He has to make up something to refuse, and he has to make it up quickly. "I don't-" he babbles, without knowing what to say, "I don't even know if I can write something like that!"

_"What?"_

Blaine bites his lip, staring at his new friends' faces, confused by the shock he can see in their eyes. Has he just said something _that _stupid?

Suddenly everybody is surrounding him, and he feels suffocating. "Do you believe in beauty?" Artie asks, looking confused.

"Yes" Blaine answers immediately.

"Freedom?" is Mercedes' question.

"Of cours-

"Truth?"

"Yes!"

"Love?"

Blaine turns his honey eyes to Rachel who has just spoken; looking at her as if he has seen something so beautiful it can't be described by words.

"Love? Love?" he asks, staring at her, "Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing; love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!" he exclaims.

The most beautiful and bright of all smiles lights up his face, and his eyes sparkle in joy. Love. Love. The sound alone of the word is enough to lift his heart up, a thousand feet high, as his heart starts beating faster and faster.

He doesn't care about the nightclub, the boys who work there, or his father's disappointed voice that starts echoing at the back of his head. He finally has the chance to follow and pursue his dream, and _nothing_ will stop him. Most definitely not a bordello.

"You can't fool us! The play is already in your heart and you're dying to let it out!" Artie finally declares, smiling broadly at him. Then he turns to a drawer to pull out of it a bottle of a green drink which Blaine doesn't recognize, and pours it in a glass, before handing it to him.

The young man's look is doubtful as he accepts the glass and takes a sip, under the inquisitive stares of the whole group's eyes.

God, it hurts.

He hasn't even drunk it properly and his mouth, tongue and throat are already burning.

He doesn't like it- at all.

But he just can't disappoint his friends and fall short of their expectations, so he smiles, raises his glass, and shouts out loud, "Tastes good!"

Rachel, Artie, Mercedes and Tina break up in laughter and start cheering, drinking and singing as if they were already drunk.

In the meanwhile, Santana wakes up, holding her head with a hand, looking puzzled.

"What the hell is happ-

"Here, Santana, take this", Rachel says with a gentle smile, handing her the green liquor.

Santana stares at the bottle. "Oh. Alcohol", she grins, licking her lips and taking the bottle, "Well, I don't know what the hell is happening, but I definitely like it. Cheers!"

Blaine smiles widely, emptying the cup again, as his head starts feeling lighter and lighter.

He definitely likes it too.

* * *

When Blaine opens his eyes, he has no idea of where he his, and how he got there. He lifts his head, slowly, and tries to sit up. He holds his head with a hand, because it feels like it suddenly weighs tons, and the room is spinning around him, and since when does he have four legs?

He tries to shake his head, to clear his own thoughts, but it just gets worse. It's like thousands of knives stabbed him where he thinks his eyes and temples are - he's not that sure, though.

The moment he understands he's about to puke, he crawls heavily to what really looks like a basket, and throws up probably everything he's ever eaten in his life.

He crumples on the floor again, grabbing the basket and cleaning his mouth with it - somewhere in his terribly confused mind, he realises it's actually made of material.

He groans, in some kind of dying-animal way, trying to figure out what was going on before he fell asleep or passed out or whatever happened last night.

Well then. He was trying to write a love song, and then an unconscious woman fell from the roof, and another woman went on talking and talking and talking and then he was practising for a play. That he remembers very well.

Then everybody was shouting and he remembers singing and accepting to write the show.

And then everything turns black and green and purple in his mind and he can't remember a thing.

With a childish whine he throws up again, and slowly things start becoming clearer - at least, he can think properly now.

Fear begins to take up his mind, as he tries to figure out what had happened.

Did they drug him? Did-did they do something bad to him? Oh my God, and if they _raped_ him?

Some kind of miracle is probably happening, because the world is spinning a little slower now - he manages to sit straight, and looks around.

Artie probably fell from his wheelchair because he is now lying on the floor, his glasses a few feet from his face. Mercedes and Tina are sleeping on the couch, their heads one against the other, surrounded by empty bottles. Rachel lies on both of their laps.

What the hell had happened last night?

He hears steps getting closer to him - steps? They're not steps. Steps aren't supposed to be so _loud_. It has to be a hammer banging on his head or something.

He looks up: Santana is there, a glass of water in her hand and a grin on her face.

"That was Mercedes' favourite hat. She's going to kill you the moment she wakes up", she informs him, gazing at the bask- _oh_. It's not a basket, Blaine suddenly realises. It's a ha-

Oh God.

He's screwed.

"Here, take this", she says, handing him the cup. Blaine stares at it as if he has just seen a glimpse of heaven, and rewards the woman with a thankful smile.

"First time you got drunk, uh?" she asks as he drinks.

Oh. So that was it. He'd just got drunk. Simple as that.

He nods, sighing with relief, handing her again the empty glass.

He feels so, so much better now.

She smirks, and Blaine should probably be scared of that smile, but she has been so nice, _how_ could she do anything mean?

"So... You're quite a good kisser, you know, kid?" she states, with nonchalance, laying the glass on a drawer next to her.

Blaine almost chokes, as he squeaks: "_Excuse me_?"

Actually, he remembers kissing someone.

Or better, making out with someone.

It's a memory that has just come to his mind. It's blurred, sure - but it's most definitely a memory.

She shrugs. "Yeah, pretty face. You kissed me. And it would have been hot, too, if you hadn't kissed Wheelchair Freak straight after"

_"What?"_

Blaine's eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open.

The- the one he was making out with was _Artie_?

That's not possible.

It literally _can't_ be possible.

She has to be kidding.

"I'm kidding!" Santana can't hold it any longer, and bursts into laughter.

_Oh thank Go-_

"Yeah, you kissed only Artie, and for several, uncomfortable minutes, too. Almost as uncomfortable as looking at Gayberry making out with her husband, I must say."

Blaine stares at her, eyes wide in shock, and his jaw has probably hit the floor by now.

He has no idea of who Gayberry is, but he really doesn't care.

Because he's going to die.

Right now, he's going to jump out of the window and kill himself.

"Hey, Dopey the Dwarf, can't you even tell a joke from the truth? I was just pulling your short, hobbitish leg, for Christ's sake!" she sighs, offering him her hand and helping him to stand.

Blaine is so relieved that her words can't even offend him. He still feels quite dizzy, but he definitely is kind of okay know, and knowing that he actually hasn't kissed Artie or Santana or anyone else makes him feel a lot better.

Maybe he had just made out with a cushion or something.

"Actually, Dopey, you made out with Rachel last night, and this isn't a joke. I would never make a joke about kissing that _thing_... The thought alone is making me want to throw up."

Santana's face is disgusted, but he couldn't care less: right now he just wants to bang his head against the wall until he falls unconscious again, because this woman his driving him crazy.

He knows he can't do anything about it, though.

"Blaine", he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm Blaine" he states.

"Oh no, you're not, shortie, you're Dopey. You're just still really confused because of all that drinking, but I swear it gets better! Well then, do you want something to eat?" she asks, a big grin lighting up her face.

Blaine lets out another, resigned sigh, and nods. "Yes, please."

Somehow, he has the feeling that starting from today, Santana won't call him by his real name ever again.

* * *

So, this is the end of chapter 2. Hope you liked it!

Please let me know if you find any mistakes and... anyone leave a review, please? :3

Love every one of you!


	3. Pink Windmills and Misty Eyes

Hello there! Missed me? 3

Alright, just kidding. I'm really sorry for the delay - I had a German exam this week. Ugh. Horrible.

So well, here's chapter three!

Hope you like it.

* * *

"Rachel, I really don't feel ok about this."

Blaine bites his lip, staring at the bright pink windmill towering over him. It's partly hidden by a rectangular building, and it's so big that Blaine can do anything but wonder_ how_ he didn't notice it in first place, considering that it's_ exactly_ in front of his apartment, on the other side of the wide road. Probably, in the light of day and with no lights turned on, it doesn't stand out as much as it does now, but even so, it's a _pink windmill_, for Christ's sake! You really don't see such a thing that often.

Mercedes, Rachel and Santana go on walking, in front of him, without realising that he has actually stopped.

There he is, about to get inside the Moulin Rose.

Which is a gay nightclub.

_Oh_, and rather _unfortunately,_ it happens to be a bordello, too.

He suddenly feels sick. "Rachel, I'm going back. I can't do this." he whispers, looking down, secretly hoping that the ground shows him a way to flee immediately. But it doesn't. It doesn't open up and swallow him entirely, or anything like that.

The woman gives his shoulder a supportive squeeze, with a bright smile.

"Don't be silly, Blaine! You will do perfectly, I swear! You're even gay, so what's the problem?"

Oh yeah.

In fact, _what's the problem_?

_Why should there be a problem?_

The girl misunderstands his silence. "Because you _are _gay, aren't you? You didn't tell me a lie this morning just to turn me down, did you? Because I told you I'm already engaged, but I have feelings too, and to do a thing like that would be very rude of you." Rachel hisses, suddenly turning to glare at him with a murderous look.

"Oh, no, no, no!" he shouts, staring at her, shaking his head and raising his hands, his eyes wide with concern, "I would never do a thing like that! Rachel, it isn't about being gay or not, it's just that-"

"Come on, Dopey!" says Santana, looking stunning and fabulous in her tight, red dress. She gives him a slap on the back, strong enough to make him stagger, "You can't be scared! Man up!" she grins.

"I'm sorry, Santana," he snaps back, folding his arms and starting walking again towards the door of the dancehall, "but we're about to get in a bordello. I think anybody would be worried."

He takes a few seconds to realise that the woman isn't following him, like Mercedes and Rachel are doing.

He looks behind, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Santana is there, standing still, clenching his fist so tight that her hands are shaking. Rage, disgust and something else, which Blaine doesn't know how to name, are burning in her gaze, flames dancing a deathly dance.

If he didn't know that she just isn't that type, he would swear that those sparkles in the corner of her eyes are tears.

"This is _not_ a bordello." she says. Her voice is shaking in anger.

Before Blaine can even open his mouth to apologize - what does he have to apologize for, anyway? -, Santana is running past them, right inside the building, shutting the door with terrible violence.

Blaine blinks, staring at the door.

Wait, _what_?

"What was_ that_?" asks Blaine, scratching his head in confusion.

Rachel puts a hand on her hip, raising the index of the other. "Well, the fact is-"

"Hell Rachel, shut up!" Mercedes suddenly bursts out, casting a reproachful look at her.

"Mercedes, he deserves to know-"

"He'll know when she decides to tell him! It's none of your business, Rachel, can't you get something as simple as that?" she then turns to Blaine, before Rachel can open her mouth and start an argument, and her gaze softens, as does her voice, "Blaine, remember, never name the b-word in front of Santana. It's a sensitive spot to her."

"It's a sensitive spot to all of us."

As she says this simple sentence, Rachel's voice is as weak as a whisper. Under Blaine's shocked look, tears gather in her eyes, but she refuses to let go.

She has cried too much over this - she can't anymore.

She has to be strong, smile, and act like everything will be ok.

She has to do it for every one of them.

Blaine feels his heart shatter in a thousand pieces.

God, he's so stupid.

He actually understands that that sentence was pretty offensive, but he didn't think they would take it that personally, thou-

Suddenly, realisation flashes through his mind, as fast, as bright, as stunning as lightening.

Kurt - this wonderful, amazing, fantastic Kurt, as the girls describe him - is his friends' friend.

And he works there.

And he has just called this place a freaking bordello.

God, _he's so stupid!_

_How _can he be so stupid?

He lowers his head, ashamed of himself.

_I didn't want to hurt anyone._

"I'm sorry. I was stupid." he mumbles, staring at the floor again.

"You couldn't know." Mercedes' hand reaches his, and gives a light squeeze, "But one thing you have to know. This is not one of those filthy places, Blaine. It's true, some of the boys and girls here sell their bodies... But it's just a few of them. And it's not something that the owner of this place approves. It's their choice."

_How?_

How can someone choose to do something like that?

How can someone - a human being, a person - choose to be treated as if he had no emotions, as if he was only a body, flesh to be touched and abused?

Blaine doesn't ask these questions, though. He is sensible enough to understand that they would hurt the women's feelings, and he doesn't want to, not again.

So he raises a tiny smile instead, and nods slightly. "I will remember."

The moment later, Mercedes is squeezing him in the tightest hug he's ever received.

"So then!" Rachel shouts, clapping her hands once, in order to get attention, "are you ready?" she asks, with a bright smile.

"Let's go!" he answers straight after, looking as if the idea alone was enough to make him eager.

Blaine knows he's lying. He knows he's not ready to get in a place like that, he knows that he will feel uneasy and he really doesn't have a good feeling about all this.

But if lying is enough to create a smile so bright on the faces of these two girls that have accepted him in their family from the first moment they saw him... he's willing to do it again and again.

As soon as Blaine walks through one of the glass doors, he finds himself in the weirdest place he's ever seen.

First of all, everything is pink. Outrageously pink. The walls are pink, the tables are pink, the counter behind which a man in a pink shirt is serving drinks is pink, and the doors that lead to the toilets are pink.

He gazes around, and a shiver runs down his back when he realises that porcelain dolls are staring at him from the top of pink shelves.

He really can't match the weirdness of the setting to all the people that are in the room, chatting in little groups, sitting at tables, or swinging slowly at the soft music that is playing in the background, because seriously, how can someone even _like_ this place?

He leans to Rachel's ear. "This place doesn't seem so full to me," he whispers, "I mean, I thought that-"

"Blaine," the woman stares at him, blinking, "don't tell me you thought this was the club."

Blaine lets out a confused, little smile. "Uhm... yes?"

"_Please_, Blaine!" Rachel shakes her head, clearly not believing him, "This is just the entrance."

"The entrance?"

Blaine's mouth hangs open, because, _seriously_?

The entrance of this place has a bar and tables and people dancing?

Just- _how_?

"Come with me."

She takes his arm, gives Mercedes a nod - she had left them to go to chat with the barman - and leads him through a door that he hadn't even noticed before.

They are outside now, in some kind of wide courtyard. Blaine can see some people here too, gazing at the starless New York night or simply enjoying the soft, cool breeze, lying on the grass or sitting on the few benches next to the sides of the garden.

He can't understand the purpose of this, though. Why should a dancehall have a courtyard?

As if she had read his mind, Rachel answers to his silent question. "So- this is the courtyard of the Moulin Rose. We use it when it's really hot inside, or when there are too many people to get inside." she explains, opening her arms wide as to show him the place.

Her words throw him off a bit - not only because _hello, how is it even possible that there are so many people inside that you have to stay outside?_, but because of the 'we' she used. It sounds so...intimate. It's like she knows this place more than she knows her own house.

"You come here very often, don't you?" he asks, looking around, interested.

"Of course we do, silly," Rachel answers, with a teasing smile, "we come here every night to see Kurt perform, remember? Oh, and Brittany too."

_Note to self: ask who Brittany is_, he thinks, and hopes to remember: he can't ask the question now, because there's a much more important issue to discuss.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but I really can't understand;" he says, turning his head to stare at her, "you're best friends with Kurt, aren't you? So why- Why do I have to do all this? Why do I have to come here and meet Kurt and sing to him and convince him, when you could just, you know, do it? I don't think he would turn you all down, wouldn't he?"

"Well, although Kurt is really appreciative of my talent - and how couldn't he be? - he isn't as much of my ideas. He has this prejudice when it comes to my suggestions, even though it doesn't really make sense, because as you have seen, my ideas are usually - or better, always - extremely intriguing and challenging."

"Yeah, sure, but," he tries to explain what he means, which is really hard, because it looks as if Rachel doesn't want to understand, "even though the music may be mine, the idea still isn't. I mean, what would change, if it were you singing the songs? They would be as good, I believe." he adds.

"Uhm, well..." Rachel mumbles, as she bites his lip, looking really, really nervous, "it's because..."

"Because we want you to meet Kurt and have fun!" Mercedes shouts, appearing suddenly on Blaine's side and taking him by his arm, "Come on, let's go!"

Rachel lets out a sigh of relief, as they start walking towards the dancehall.

Once again, Mercedes has avoided the disaster.

_I'm sorry, Blaine,_ she thinks, as a joyful smile comes back to her lips, _I promise you will know, just- now is not the time._

In the meanwhile, Blaine stays silent, as thousands of thoughts flash across his mind. This is weird. Santana's reaction, Rachel's look as if she was about to tell a secret twice, Mercedes' intervention... they clearly hide something; even Blaine realised it- and that means quite a lot, considering that he usually is quite... slow, to understand these kind of things.

But what is it?

They all seem really nice people, even though they're loud, weird and fight a lot.

He can't understand what's going on, and it annoys him.

When they get in front of an enormous, dark pink door, Rachel smiles at him.

"Are you ready?" she asks, for the second time that night.

Blaine takes a deep breath, and nods. _This is it_, he thinks.

"So, if you are..." Rachel declares in a solemn voice, "please follow us, sir, in the most amazing and wonderful place you've ever seen. We'd like to welcome you, to the Moulin Rose."

And then she opens the door.

* * *

Reviews are always nice and welcome and make me really happy :D


	4. Le Jazz Hot

Hi there!

So, here's another chapter, just to make up for last week's delay.

We'll meet someone really special…

Hope you like it!

* * *

The Moulin Rose is... amazing. There's no other word to describe it, Blaine realises as he steps in.

Basically, a dance floor occupies almost the entire building. On the other side of the room there's a stage, where a man is singing some pop song he doesn't recognize, and behind him an enormous screen shows clips of the people who are dancing. _There must be hidden cameras somewhere_, Blaine thinks.

On the right and left sides of the room, on a raised floor, he can see a few squared tables surrounded by sofas (Blaine is shocked to see they're _white_) and a counter on both sides.

As for in the entrance, almost everything is pink, but it doesn't even bother him anymore, because the people dancing and sitting at the tables are so many and dressed in so many colours, that they make the place look like some kind of kaleidoscope.

He loves it.

"Wow. Just... Wow," he gasps.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Rachel takes him by the hand, and leads him through the dancing crowd, to the table next to the stage.

Tina is already there, smiling and waving at them.

"Where are Santana and Brittany?" Mercedes asks, sitting next to her, followed right afterwards by Rachel and Blaine.

"Dancing together somewhere, Brittany's number is right after Kurt's," she answers, taking a sip from the drink she's holding and handing it to her.

Blaine looks around, his eyes open wide in fascination. Rachel doesn't even wait for him to ask her something, and starts talking.

"This is our table," she explains, as the other two girls nod, "well, not really, but we always sit here so everyone who works here started considering it our table by now. You have the best view of the stage, and we basically come here just to see Brittany and Kurt perform, so that makes sense. What's on tonight, Tina?" she asks then, turning to the woman.

She takes out of her bag a pink sheet, gives a quick look at it and then hands it to Rachel. "Right after Ben there's Jude, then Connie and Jake are singing together, and then there's Kurt, Brittany and Kurt again. Then there's just some random deejay."

"Le Jazz Hot, uh? Oh, he was _amazing_ when he sang it in second year."

"I hope he's not cross-dressing again, though. It was weird."

"It's not, Mercedes - it's _theatre_."

"Please don't start to argue aga- oh, Mike just texted me, he can't make it tonight! It was a tough day, he's pretty tired."

"Well, Tina, you could go home earlier to_ cheer him up_ a bit, then."

"_Rachel!"_

Blaine tries to listen to the dialogue, but he can't really understand about what or whom they're talking about, so he lets his mind and gaze wander over the crowd. Is Kurt there, dancing with someone? Or is he in the dressing rooms? The thought of meeting him makes Blaine quite uncomfortable and nervous. Not only Mercedes and Rachel described him as the most amazing person in the whole world, but there are too many questions about him and the whole Moulin Rose issue, too: of course, the place looks amazing, but he has learned that not everything is always as it seems.

Sometimes homely place are not homely at all; sometimes, warm and nice people are ready to hit you as soon as they find out who you truly are.

He shakes his head a little, to free his mind from sad thoughts, and turns to the girls, who stopped talking.

"So... What are we doing now?" he asks, adjusting his tie.

Suddenly, they all stand up, as Mercedes shouts, "We have fun!"

Before he can even realise it, he is in the middle of the crowd, dancing frenetically, following his friends' moves, laughing and taking a sip from the drinks they hand him ever and anon. At some point Mercedes shouts something, pointing at the screen behind the stage, and Blaine can see his own, confused, red-cheeked face staring back at him.

The music, the noise, the smell of sweat and perfume make his head spin, as he dances and laughs and has fun with the girls. Now and then he takes some time to glance at the people surrounding him, as if to figure out who, between the women and the men dancing, sells her or his body.

The thing is, he can't really tell. Everybody just seems so... normal. Just like every other club he has seen in his life. He had imagined it as a filthy, dark place with red lights and men harassing and abusing of the dancers against the walls.

As soon as he realises that this is actually the idea he had of the Moulin Rose, he feels really bad about himself. He always preached that prejudice was just ignorance - and there he had been, afraid of stepping in this place because of the fame it had.

He turns to Rachel, who's dancing between Mercedes and Tina, to tell her he's really sorry about it, and he now understood his mistake, but suddenly the music stops, and everything goes silent.

"Wha-"

"Oh my God! I totally forgot! It's starting!" Rachel squeaks before he can ask what the hell is happening (it would be, like, the third time in less than two days). People turn to glare at them, but he doesn't even have the time to feel embarrassed, because Rachel and Mercedes suddenly grabbed him by his wrists and are now running towards the table.

Santana and a blonde girl are already sitting on the sofa, and the Hispanic is whispering something at the blonde's ear, making her giggle. As soon as they sink into the sofa, panting to catch their breaths, Santana looks up at Rachel.

"Just in time, Gayberry!" she scolds her.

The woman ignores her on purpose, and leans to Blaine's ear. "That's Brittany, Santana's girlfriend."

Blaine has just the time to figure out that wait, what, Santana has a _girlfriend_?, that the lights go down.

"And now, ladies and gentleman... Kurt Hummel," a low voice announces, in the dark.

Then, a spotlight slowly turns on, floodlighting the figure of somebody sitting on a swing, a few meters high, as the music begins playing.

Blaine blinks.

And then he blinks again.

And then, he just can't stop staring.

Because in front of his stunned eyes, swinging softly to the music, there's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

"That's our Sparkling Diamond," Mercedes whispers, with a proud smile.

But Blaine doesn't even look at her, because he just can't tear his eyes off of the celestial angel that has just appeared. With his right hand he keeps a dark gray fedora low on his face, creating a dark shadow that hides his eyes. His lips are rosy and thin, and his skin... his skin looks like smooth, pearly velvet, that glows under the ray of white light. Blaine suddenly feels the desperate urge to touch it, even though he can only see it on the wide screen, because Kurt is too far right now.

_Why does he have to be so far?_

He looks simply... stunning. Too perfect to belong to this world.

And then, Kurt starts singing.

_"About twenty years ago, way down in New Orleans,"_ he begins, softly.

Blaine's mouth hangs open, and he doesn't even know how to shut it anymore, because- just because.

His voice.

It's- Blaine simply doesn't know any word to describe it.

It's like a raindrop, slowly running down his chest, softly caressing his heart, but leaving a burning trace behind. Limpid, gentle, as clear as crystal - but it makes his skin tickle, and his stomach twist with something he can't name.

He's an angel. A flawless angel. Something precious, too pure to be touched, too perfect to walk the ways of this filthy, wrong world.

_Why did they push you down here? Were they too jealous of your beauty, up in the Heavens?_

_"A group of fellows found a new kind of music, and they decided to call it Jazz."_

On the last word, he suddenly raises his head, showing the rosy cheeks and the dark, long eyelashes.

And his eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

They _are_ crystal - that kind of pale, luminous blue that seems to shine from the inside, so full of light and different shades that it seems to hide a whole world. If Kurt's voice was a colour, Blaine's sure it would be the one of his eyes.

He was right - he is the most beautiful creature that has ever lived this world.

"_Before they knew it, it was whizzin' 'round the world... the world was ready for a blue kind of music..."_

While singing, slowly Kurt stands up on the swing, holding on the rope with a hand, making wide gestures with the other, and Blaine can admire his slim, graceful body, and the way clothes perfectly fit him; how that white shirt and the dark gray waistcoat hug his waist, and those trousers -_ how_ are they even trousers? They're too_ tight_ to be trousers.

_"And now they play it from Steamboat Springs..."_

Blaine is pretty sure that as soon as he sings these words Kurt glimpses at their table, because Rachel starts waving frantically.

Something warm starts spreading from his stomach to his whole body, and Blaine suddenly realises that Kurt is not simply breath taking and perfect and stunning.

He's hot, too.

Extremely hot.

He swallows hard, trying to focus his attention on something that is not the man's long legs.

_"To La Paz!"_

All of a sudden the music becomes faster, and Kurt grins, as he throws his hat to the crowd.

Blaine doesn't even know how it happened, but the second later he is standing, and the fedora is in his trembling hands.

"Nice catch, Dopey," Santana laughs, as he sits down again, looking at the hat as if it was some kind of magical item that had just appeared in his hands, trying is best not to caress it or kiss it or _smell_ it.

Kurt starts swinging in circle on top of the crowd, which starts shouting and cheering in excitement.

Then he smiles.

He simply... smiles.

And Blaine's heart skips a beat.

The swing then lowers, without stopping spinning, and Kurt jumps down, as light as a feather. _How can someone be so elegant?,_ Blaine thinks, as Kurt starts singing again.

The crowd splits in half as he walks down from the stage, where women and men are dancing. He snaps his fingers to the music, dancing and singing and smiling and blowing kisses to people.

Blaine stares, as a man swoons because Kurt is moving his hips in some kind of hypnotic way right in front of his face.

_Please come here and look at me, Kurt._

* * *

Hi there!

So, here's another chapter. Hope you liked it!

Kurt. Amazing, stunning, breath taking Kurt. I swear that to describe him I googled pictures of him - his eyes, his face, him. And I would just stare at the picture and wonder how can someone be so perfect and couldn't write anymore because of this perfection overload and all these Chris Colfer feelings I had.

Moved by Chris Colfer's beauty. Yeah. That's me.

I regret nothing.

The song Kurt sings here is Le Jazz Hot. The original version comes from Victor/Victoria. The Glee version was sung in 2x04.


	5. Kurt

Hi there! So, probably no one will really care because I bet you're still dying because of the Little Numbers feelings, but here's the new chapter :)

A bit, great, enormous thank you to all the people that put this story in favourites or alert. I love every single one of you.

Follow me on tumblr! :D I'd really appreciate that :D The name is the same as my nickname here, so v.v

One last thing: in this chapter, I Wanna Dance With Somebody is featured. This is the Brittana version I'm talking about! watch?v=Rc4-Qu6R0L8 Here's the link, but _of course_ you already know it, don't you?

Hope you like the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 5 - Kurt

Kurt's smile is wide and bright and lights up the room, as he walks in the middle of the stage, still singing.

He loves this. People shouting his name, looking at him as if he was some kind of divinity, adoring his moves and his voice. How long has he been waiting for this? For people actually to like him and what he does?

Lima seems so far, right now. Being smashed against the lockers, thrown into dumpsters, made fun of because of his appearance... those days are gone, and will never come back again.

It's his time to shine. His time to be happy.

Finally, it's his turn.

He opens his arms wide and stops singing, as Sandy walks on stage, attempting miserably to follow the rhythm of the instrumental interlude.

God, he's _embarrassing_.

But he pays his rent, so he'll have to cope with it.

He touches his own chest as soon as they start dancing together,switching off the small microphone that is attached to the inside of his vest. He definitely doesn't want anyone to hear the conversations he's about to have.

"Is the duke here?" he asks, hiding his worry behind an excited smile - people are still looking at them, after all. As Sandy puts a hand on his hip - Kurt has to admit he is slightly disgusted by the touch - and grabs his other hand, he smiles.

"Of course he is, sweetie, he came just for you. On the left, wearing a suit," he says, his voice covered by the loud music. They spin a bit, so that Kurt can gaze in the direction Sandy's eyes show him.

"Which one?" he asks, confused. There are two men in a suit, sitting at different tables, but actually next to each other. The one on the right is sitting between Rachel and Mercedes, he realises, and the thing surprises him quite a lot.

The girls would never be friends with_ one of them_. It can't be him, can he?

Sandy looks at the same spot, with a twirl. "The one talking to Rachel, darling. Who else?"

In the meantime, something has happened at Blaine's table. While bouncing up and down because of the excitement, Rachel accidentally hit a man's back, making him spill his drink. Right now she is talking to the man, claiming that it is his fault, and that he's acting really rude by accusing her. The man looks pretty angry, and Rachel is about to snap something irritating, when she notices someone standing next to the first one. He lifts the edge of his jacket, with a smile that looks pretty _evil_, and Rachel can see a gun tied to his belt.

Eyes wide in fear she suddenly stops talking and goes back to their table, shaking. She turns to Blaine, hoping to be reassured because that man has basically _threatened her with a gun_, but the boy was and is _way too busy_ staring at Kurt dancing to pay attention to anything, because he's sure that a few moments before Kurt looked at him.

Rachel is still ranting, but he couldn't care less right now.

He wants Kurt to look at him again.

With a deep dip, Kurt is able to look at the two tables again. Rachel is actually talking to the man sitting next to her, even though he is clearly ignoring her to stare at him.

It's him then.

But they can't be friends. He knows his girls, they would never do anything like that to him - well, perhaps Rachel could, but not Mercedes and definitely not Santana, considering what is going on with Brittany right now. Kurt needs to be logical about this: perhaps they're trying to present the play to the Duke before he meets him, and they're acting nice for this reason. He should know better - he's paid to act nice.

He's paid to love men.

He's a prostitute. A whore. He sells his body for money.

But he can't feel disgusted about himself.

Right now he has to sing and be fabulous and make people shout his name.

He will have the time to hate his life - tomorrow morning, in bed, crying his eyes out because his body belongs to the highest bidder, now.

He bites his lip, trying to shrug off bad thoughts about himself.

He knows that's not completely true.

He knows why he's doing this.

He has a goal. That's all it matters.

_Pull yourself together, Kurt._

Sandy winks at him, and he knows that means it's the time to change his costume. Gloria - the woman in charge of the costumes - quickly gets next to him as the Moulin Rose dancers surround them, hiding them from the screaming crowd. Kurt bends down so that no one can see him as he takes his clothes off, wearing the ones Gloria hands him under the watchful eye of his boss. He hates it when he stares at him - actually, he hates it when every man looks at his naked body. It makes him feel vulnerable; it makes him feel as if he's just flesh, and he knows he's a lot more than that.

"Could you please turn the other way as I get changed, Sandy?" he snaps, glaring at him. Sandy shrugs, with a resigned sigh.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but my eyes can't resist the smooth gleam of porcelain skin. Asking me not to stare at you is asking a moth not to go towards a flame."

Kurt's snort of disappointment is well hidden by Gloria's laugh, as she ties the laces of the sleeveless shirt he has just put on, and Sandy doesn't seem to notice it.

"What's his type?" he asks then, as he takes off his trousers, and wears the other ones the woman gives him, "Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Or smouldering tempter?" he says, his voice and face changing as he suggests something else.

Ryerson looks concentrated, as he stares at him. "I'd say smouldering tempter. Just try not to make those faces, it looks like you have some kind of colic, sweetheart. Be yourself, and he will fall at your feet like one Sandy Ryerson in front of Miss Aretha."

Kurt nods, and Sandy caresses his naked arm with an intimacy that makes him quite uncomfortable. "Remember, Porcelain... do this, and you will never have to do it again. A real show, in a real theatre, and I will - _you_ will be-

"A real actor," he finishes, eyes sparkling with hope.

Sandy is right. If he does this, he won't have to sell himself anymore. The show's profit will give him enough money to pay his NYADA tuition fee this year, and Dad won't have to worry about anything besides himself and his health.

"Now! Go, go, go!" Sandy suddenly shouts, as Gloria disappears behind the circle of dancers. Kurt jumps up, turning his microphone on again, and Sandy stands straight after.

A roar welcomes him as he smiles to the crowd, throwing his hands in the air.

And he starts singing again.

Blaine can't stop a sigh of relief from coming out of his lips when the elegant figure of Kurt pops out of the circle of dancers.

"Missed him, Dopey?" Santana grins, high-fiving Mercedes, as Rachel burst into laughter.

"He's not going anywhere, Blaine!" she says, putting a hand on his shoulder, failing to act serious. Blaine blushes hard, turning to look at them.

"Stop it!" he gasps, trying to hide his smile behind an extremely offended look.

"_Stop what?_"

The girls open their eyes wide, as they stare at something behind him; they stop laughing out hard and begin giggling, and Blaine is so confused he turns around to see what is so funny - besides his embarrassing behaviour.

His eyes go wide.

His mouth hangs open.

His heart stops beating.

And suddenly it is pounding faster than it ever did in his chest, and an unpleasant feeling is rolling in his stomach, and breathing never seemed so hard because _Kurt is standing in front of him_.

Yes, gorgeous, amazing, incredibly sultry Kurt is standing in font of him and looking at him and smiling at him and Blaine is not really sure he's still breathing right now.

God, he's even more gorgeous now that he can see him properly and not from a flat screen in the distance. _How_ can he be more gorgeous? How is it even_ possible_? Blaine can't help letting his gaze wander over the boy; the milky velvet of his skin looks even softer, and his arms are actually more muscular than what he thought, and _ohmygod are those really leather pants?_

Blaine needs to cool down quickly, or he will burst in flames in less than a second.

_In, out, in, out, Blaine, it isn't hard,_ he thinks, crossing his legs - he really _has_ to - and trying to remember how to breathe. He fixes his eyes on Kurt's face, because having a hard-on the first time he sees him isn't really a good idea - but damn, his lips look just as tempting.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes.

"Hi, Kurt," Rachel chuckles, as she hides her smile behind her folded hands. Kurt smiles at her, as the music keeps going on.

"Sorry, Rachel, I didn't come for you...but for this handsome man sitting next to you."

Blaine's throat suddenly feels extremely dry, as his heart skips a beat.

_This handsome man sitting next to you._

This handsome man.

This. _Handsome_. Man.

_Alright, Blaine. You're the only guy sitting next to Rachel. He's talking about you._

His brain seems to be refusing the idea.

Kurt wants _him_.

Wha-Wh-_How?_

"Me?" he asks, dazed, pointing at himself.

Kurt smiles softly, pretty amused. "Of course, silly!"

The girls burst into laughter, as he blushes again.

_Alright, Anderson, this is your moment. You've got to use every inch of charm you have in your body, and you know that's a lot. Stun him with your best sexy look, give him a sultry smile. Act confident, act confident, act con-_

"...Thank you," he babbles, his cheeks that start burning in embarrassment.

Did he- He didn't say that aloud, did he?

Considering that Mercedes just fell from the sofa, and Santana in laughing so hard she's crying, he probably did.

_Well done, Anderson. How very eloquent of you, I'm impressed._

Kurt can't help letting out a small laugh, but his lips are curved in a smirk the moment later. "My pleasure," he says, his voice suddenly deep and husky.

Blaine finds swallowing pretty hard right now, staring at those eyes that don't look so angelic anymore.

The audience laughs, and he wants the earth to crack and swallow him _now_. His face is burning so much that he's positive it will burst in flames in a few seconds, and he just want everything to end. He has never been so ashamed in his whole life - and that includes the time he serenaded that guy that worked in the GAP, Jeremiah, and had been turned down in front of Sebastian.

Who, of course, is still making jokes about it now.

Kurt suddenly turns to the crowd, which suddenly goes silent. "I guess," he says, softly swaying his hips - _right in front of Blaine's face_ - "the Sparkling Diamond has made his choice."

Someone boos, someone cheers, and the moment later Kurt takes his hand and leads him to the dance-floor.

Blaine needs a few moments to realise what is happening - Kurt wants to dance with him, Kurt is holding his hand, _he is touching Kurt's skin_ - and can just stare, as the world around them seems to stop. He was right - Kurt's skin _is_ velvet. His hands are cold, though, as cold as the crystal of his eyes; it makes him wish he could warm them up, somehow.

As soon as Kurt walks on the dance-floor, his hand still in Blaine's, the crowd seems to split in half around him. _He looks like some kind of king or god_, Blaine wonders, _people love him and would kill to be with him, but they're too overwhelmed by his presence to come close_.

Le Jazz Hot fades, as another song starts playing; it's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston, and Blaine gasps with delight.

"I love this song!"

"You do? I'm glad," Kurt smiles, as he starts moving his shoulders and hips almost hypnotically, dancing in front of him. Blaine looks towards the stage, trying to stay focused, and notices that there's the blonde girl from before - Santana's _girlfriend_, he still can't believe it - singing, together with Santana.

"Wow, they're good," he gasps, staring at them.

"Yes, they most definitely are," Kurt agrees, "so, you know the girls?" he asks, in an attempt to start some kind of conversation.

Blaine smiles, relaxing a bit his tensed shoulders: talking about friends is easy, dancing is easy, and nothing can possibly go wrong.

But Kurt is so close. _So damn close._

"Yes! The circumstances were a bit strange, I must say, and at first I wasn't really sure about it."

Kurt blinks, slightly confused. "About what?" he asks, biting his tongue straight after. Never ask anything to the clients. Act sweet or sexy or whatever they like, do stuff, please them. Nothing else.

Strangely, the man doesn't seem annoyed. "Well, about coming here, of course. But they said they needed me, and they insisted so much, so I agreed. And I must say, I don't regret it at all."

Kurt would probably swoon for the man's charming smile, if something in his heart hadn't just broken.

The girls sent him here.

Of course they needed a financer, of course it was a matter of life or death to all of them. But to think that _they_ had sent him there, knowing _what_ he would be doing to him late that night, knowing _how much_ Kurt suffered...

He just can't believe it. How could they do this to him?

_Of course you don't regret it, you bastard._

"It was very kind of you to take interest in our little show," he says instead, with a smile so bright that it lifts Blaine's heart up.

But suddenly Kurt bends down - God, he can feel his breath on his crotch_, for Christ's sake!_ - and goes up again.

"Of course, assuming you like what I do," Blaine gasps, trying to remember how to talk and breathe and _live_.

Kurt can't believe it. Is this guy kidding or is he just _stupid_?

He _hates_ it. He absolutely hates it, because this man's smile is so nice and his eyes are beautiful now that he looks at them and he sounds and looks so charming when he isn't embarrassed but then he talks about _fucking him for money_ like it was something _normal_ and he just can't stand it.

Why does it have to be like this? It's just _unfair_. Probably, in another world, in another universe, Kurt would have met him, and even fallen in love with him, because he _really_ seems a nice person.

But he's not.

And Kurt can't fall in love with him, or with anyone else.

"I'm sure I will."

* * *

It isn't long, before Brittany's song is finished and Kurt has to sing again to close the performance. Blaine is looking at the swing, where he is sitting again, fabulous and gorgeous as before.

He knows his lips are curved in an extremely stupid smile right now, but he can't help it. He feels so _happy_. He has made new friends, met a flawless, perfect man who doesn't seem to belong to this world, he has _danced_ with him.

And it all happened in less than a week.

He feels so lucky right now, so _free_, like he hasn't been for - well, forever.

Kurt's swing starts going up, as his voice becomes more and more high-pitched on one single letter.

_His vocal range is amazing_, Blaine thinks, staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. He had never met someone like that before.

"Wow", he gasps.

"I know," Rachel sighs. He can_ hear_ just how much she is proud of him, and the idea makes him both glad and envious, too. Of course, his friends love him and look up to him and admire him, but they're not _proud_ of him.

No one ever was.

Not even his parents.

The swing stops mid air. Kurt has now to sing the last three words; then the lights will go down, and the performance will come to an end.

He takes a deep breath, as the drums roll.

"_Le Jazz ho-_

A gasp.

His eyes close, his hands lose grip on the ropes, his mind goes black.

Somebody screams.

A solemn stillness holds the crowd, as Kurt falls.


	6. Your Song

Hi there! :D

So, the song that Blaine sings is "Your Song" by Elton John :) Darren sang it too, here's the **link -** watch?v=szBM3XMS8sM :) It's amazing, isn't it?

I see Your Song as a Moulin Rouge version of Teenage Dream. After all, it's the first song that Kurt hears Blaine sing, and after that he understands immediately that he's in love.

Oh, have you noticed that this is chapter 6? And Teenage Dream is sung in episode 6. #JustSayin'

Hope you like the chapter! :D

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_6 - Your Song_

Blaine straightens his tie for the thousandth time tonight, staring at the wooden door in front of him, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.

He is in the Pink Windmill now, the one he had seen from the entrance. The girls led him here a few minutes ago, showing him the door to Kurt's room – even though he doesn't understand why someone should have a room in their workplace – and leaving him there alone, to sweat and try to slow his heartbeat.

He really hopes that his face is not as pale as he feels it, and how he's still alive is a mystery to him right now. He almost had a heart attack before, when he saw Kurt falling from the swing – thanks God one of the dancers had caught him before he could hit the floor. Rachel had told him that passing out was pretty common for Kurt, low pressure or something, but… it wasn't just that that worries him.

This is it. He's about to meet Kurt. The perfect, amazing, celestial creature that made his heart beat like it never did before, that danced with him, that sang for him.

He's not like he's in love or anything, of course; he doesn't even know him, after all. The fact is that Kurt's probably the most handsome man he's ever met, _hell_, he's the most handsome man he's ever _seen_, and his body kind of reacted to it before – in every way possible. He wipes off a single drop of sweat that is resting on his forehead and makes a step towards the door.

_It's not hard, Blaine, come on. You just have to knock, meet this guy, and sing. Singing is your thing, you know that. _

He knocks on the door.

_Come on Blaine. You can do this._

Kurt jerks as he hears someone knocking on the door of his room.

It's him.

His career depends on this guy. If he does this right, he won't have to be a prostitute anymore. He won't have to beg, to lie, to spend his nights with men he hates.

He glimpses at the table, where champagne waits to be drunk and refreshments to be eaten. Everything is ready, as every night before this one. He just has to welcome him in, make him drink the champagne, and entertain him, waiting. He has done this so many times now…

He goes towards the door, opening it slowly.

_Come on, Kurt. You can do this. _

"Good evening, sir," Kurt smiles, as soon as the man comes in.

_Oh, all right. This can be a problem_, Blaine thinks, staring with wide eyes at the figure standing in front of him, as Kurt opens his arms to welcome him in.

Kurt is simply _distracting_ – now even more than he was before, under the spotlight. Because that shirt he's wearing shows a big part of his chest and his arms and Blaine just can't tear his eyes away from the snowy skin.

How is he supposed to sing, when his mouth feels drier than the desert? He turns his eyes to look at anything but Kurt, feeling blood run to his cheeks – he needs to calm down.

Kurt is quickly getting angry.

He can see _it_.

Lust.

It hides in the dark shadow spreading in his honey eyes; it runs on the tongue quickly licking his dry lips, it creeps in the veins of his shaking arms: little signs that Kurt has learnt to notice by now.

He's about to offer him the champagne, so that he can start and get done with this thing, when the man turns his eyes away and stares at the floor, flushing lightly.

Kurt gives him a confused look, because he looks embarrassed, and in a year that he's been doing this, it never happened. Not even once. How can someone who pays to _sleep_ with other people possibly feel uncomfortable about anything?

Kurt can't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, he feels ashamed. Maybe he's not one of those people who do this every week, maybe it's the first time and he doesn't want to do anything anymore.

As something tightens in his chest, Kurt knows that something inside him has born. It's hope. It's just a little, newborn spark, but it's there.

And Kurt can't allow it.

He can't allow himself to have hope, not anymore.

"Are you ok?"

When Kurt stares at him with wide eyes, whispering an 'excuse me?' it's not because he didn't understand.

He just can't believe it.

"I was just wondering if you were ok. I saw you falling from that swing and you really scared me. Rachel told me that you have low pressure and a light anaemia, too, but if you're not feeling well I don't think the girls would mind if we postponed our… meeting", Blaine says, getting closer and touching his shoulder. Kurt's heart starts beating faster and faster, and flinches slightly as he feels the man's hand on him.

"I'm- I'm all right, thank you," he stutters, blushing hard.

It's such a simple question, isn't it?

_Are you ok?_

How long has it been, that someone last asked him? That someone lent him a helping hand in the hell he is living? He knows that his friends love him, but sometimes they just don't seem to _care_. Of course Dad, Carole and Finn know nothing about this, and can't possibly help him, and he feels so damn alone. It 's like the days when he was shoved into lockers or thrown into dumpsters are coming back, in the shadow of his new life, and he can do nothing about it.

There's always a moment, under the spotlight, on the stage, as adoring people cry out his name, when he feels like it's finally his turn to be happy.

But it doesn't last; it never does.

Perhaps he doesn't deserve it – perhaps being miserable is just his destiny.

"Kurt?"

He jerks, as he notices that the man is waving a hand in front of his eyes, a puzzled look on his face. _Damn it._ He zoned out.

"I'm sorry," he manages to say after a few seconds of panic, "Your beautiful eyes trapped mine for what felt like an instant".

Blaine drops his head and lets out a little giggle. Compliments always make something twitch in his chest, and considering that it just came from this gorgeous man, he can't help feeling extremely flattered.

"Would you like a little supper? Maybe some… champagne?" Kurt asks with a smile, lifting a glass filled up with wine.

Blaine doesn't want to refuse, but his last experience with alcohol hadn't been that nice, and he doesn't want to end up making out with Kurt or throwing up in one of his hats – Mercedes still kind of hates him for what happened last morning.

"I'd rather, um," he tries to say, hesitantly, "get it over and done with".

Kurt slams the glass down onto the table, as he feels that spark of hope painfully dying in his chest. Of course, how could he even think that this guy was better than the others?

"Oh", he exclaims, turning towards him, hoping that his face doesn't show how offended he feels by such a lack of tact, "don't you want to taste it? It's the best wine you could possibly find in whole New York. You're wasting an opportunity".

"It's very kind of you, but I don't really like wine."

Luckily, Kurt had considered this eventuality.

"Some other drink, then?"

"_I'm not_" he raises his voice, accidentally, before lowering it again, "really thirsty, actually," the man tries to say, looking rather uncomfortable.

Kurt starts to panic. The man _has _to drink, or he won't-

Suddenly, an idea flashes through his mind.

Even though he's as horrible as the others, this guy seems to be quite concerned for his health. Kurt just has to pretend to faint or feel sick, and everything will be all right.

"Very well then," he affirms, a malicious smile curving his lips, as he goes closer to a bed that Blaine didn't notice before, "Why don't you come down here and… let's get it over and done with."

Blaine watches with fascination as Kurt lies down on the bed, and starts trailing his fingers back down the line of his own hips and legs. He swallows hard, trying to resist to the spell Kurt seems to be casting on him.

_Chill down, Blaine. He's just some guy, even though he's gorgeous and stunning and lying on a _freaking_ bed and wants you to join him and God no don't think what you're thinking right now don't you ever dare-_

"I prefer to do it standing, actually," he says, quite embarrassed.

_What?_

Like, _seriously_?

Is he joking or something?

"Oh," Kurt manages to say, as he stares at him with wide eyes, because this guy is a total _freak_. He starts standing to reach him, though, because he has to please him so that he will finance the show.

"You don't have to stand, " the man suddenly blocks him, looking concerned, "I mean, it's sometimes that… It's quite long, and I'd like you to be comfortable."

All right. If possible, Kurt is even more confused now. Does this guy want to _masturbate _in front of him or something?

_Oh God no_. That would be weird.

But it would mean that he has nothing to do, though. He just has to look at him and make sexy faces, maybe; perhaps this is what the man wants him to do.

Kurt's suddenly satisfied by the turn the night has taken, and his pleased smile can definitely prove it.

"I will be. Please start", he whispers.

Blaine has to shake his head to clear his own – quite dirty now – thoughts, and swallow again, because his mouth feels too dry to even speak.

"_I-It's a little-_" he starts to sing, softly, looking at Kurt with hope filling his eyes.

He expects him to look at him in awe, clap, sing along with him, or stand up and leave because he doesn't like it at all. What he totally doesn't expect him to do, though, is to spread his legs and bite his lip with a weird look that kind of freaks him out.

"_-a little b-bit funny_", he goes on, wishing that Kurt stopped this _thing_ he's doing, because he's being really distracting right now, "_this f-feeling insi_- are you okay?"

"I'm a lot more than okay, gorgeous," Kurt gasps, dropping on the sheets, "talk naughty to me, again-"

"Erm… All right", Blaine says, even though it sounds a question rather than an answer, "_I'm not one of tho- _seriously, are you sure you're okay? You look like you're si-"

But suddenly Kurt stands and shoves him against the wall, kissing his neck with violence, biting and licking and sucking his skin roughly, fiercely, _wildly_. Wet lips devouring his flesh, firm and cold fingers running long his skin, the hard wall against his back: everything is so new and unexpected and _urgent _that his brain can hardly register what is happening. Blaine is petrified as a _stranger _takes control over his body.

"I'm beyond ok, but you could make me feel so much better, honey," Kurt whispers, hot breath against his sensitive skin, letting his hands wander under Blaine's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Blaine pants, as Kurt starts unbuttoning his shirt with urgency.

"Get it over and done with, just as you wish."

Kurt doesn't know why he's doing this. He doesn't know why he's kissing this man's jaw, licking his neck, biting his ear without him having asked it. He doesn't know what pushed him to pin him against the wall and do thing to him; what he knows is that it felt like the right thing to do. This man went on talking and babbling something and mocking his clearly sexy faces, and he just wanted him to _stop_, even though he is utterly embarrassed of having to do this.

What Kurt will never admit to himself, though, is that despite the shame and the humiliation he doesn't regret doing this at all.

Blaine can't help gasping loud as Kurt abruptly palms his cock through the fabric of his clothes. His eyes open wide as Kurt starts rubbing slowly, and liquid heat runs through his veins, setting fire to his blood. His body realises what is happening way before his blank mind does, and throws back his head with a loud moan, rocking his hips forward in Kurt's grasp.

"You like this, don't you, baby?" Kurt breathes against his collarbone, unbuttoning his trousers and slipping a hand inside his pants, as he grabs his erection firmly.

"You're such a hot b-_big boy_!" he gasps out loud, staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

That's enough to awake Blaine from the haze of pleasure in which he had fallen. Suddenly he pushes Kurt away and steps away from him, buttoning up his trousers again, his hands trembling and his eyes wide with shock.

"_What was that?"_ he squeaks, staring at him, "Why did you just- _do that_?"

Kurt's eyebrows furrow in an offended look, as pain stabs him right in his heart. _What_ is the _problem _with this guy? Why did he even pay if he doesn't want to be touched?

Kurt can't understand this. He shouldn't feel hurt. Angry, perhaps; or frightened that he won't finance the show anymore. But not hurt. He has no interest in this guy, so why does he feel…. _Rejected_? Thrown away?

"I thought this was what you wanted!" he shouts back, as rage and pain start piercing his heart.

"I-I just wanted to-to sing for you!"

The room falls silent.

Kurt blinks several times, staring blankly at the other man, before acknowledging what he has just heard.

"Sing?" he asks, confusion clearly filling his eyes.

The man smiles, and Kurt feels his heart flutter with amazement. How can a smile be so beautiful?

So this is the moment. It's now or never.

Blaine is still pretty confused about what happened before. He doesn't even know Kurt and he just _put a hand down his pants_, and even though the thought is quite flattering, because he didn't know he affected people – or, at least, him – this way, it makes him quite uncomfortable, too.

But he will think about it later. Right now he has to sing and prove Kurt that he can do this, he can take part in the production of this show. From this moment could depend his own future, and he has to do this right.

"_My gift is my song_", he belts out, his bright and confident smile lighting up the whole room, shutting his eyes, "_and this one's for you."_

When he opens them again, Kurt is staring at him, with his stunning, amazing blue eyes sparkling in surprise.

"_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words…"_

Kurt leans towards him, a small smile curving his lips.

"…_How wonderful life is now you're in the world."_

Kurt is not really sure he's awake right now.

Maybe this is just a sweet, beautiful dream.

He has to be in a new world, some kind of alternative universe, a perfect, safe place where people serenade him instead of abusing of him. This man looks at him with his stunning smile like he actually means the words he's singing, and Kurt can't help smiling back because really, how couldn't he? He feels like there's somebody holding his heart in a tight grip, and it aches, but it's a good feeling, too, and something rolls and twists in his stomach as he realises that he's in love. He knows it, because it's the exact same feeling that caught him every time Finn, his stepbrother, looked at him in the eyes or smiled at him.

He is in love.

"_But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song; it's for people like you that keep it turned on."_

The man is not the corrupted person he believed he was. He didn't want to do anything with him – just wanted to show Kurt he loves him. Of course before tonight they have never talked to each other, but is it really important? He has seen Mean Girls and The Notebook, and even West Side Story: love at first sight is all about falling in love when you first set eyes on someone. And how could he deny and reject love?

It is perfect and so, so clear. He is in love with a man that loves him back, a man who paid just to show him his love, and will finance the show.

_It's too good to be true,_ Kurt thinks, without tearing his eyes off the man's bright smile.

"_Anyway the thing is, what I really mean, is yours are the sweetest eyes that I've ever seen."_

But actually, it isn't. This is_ true_, this is real, he realises as he chuckles slightly, flushing for the compliment.

"_And you can tell anybody, that this is your song."_

Finally he can be happy, finally it's his turn.

Finally _he _will know what love is.

"_It may be quite simple but, now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words,"_

As he sings the last part of the song, the man gets closer to him, and with a delicate sweetness he holds his hands, pulling him up. Hearts melt together as they really look for the first time in each other's eyes, staring right into each other's soul; hazel blends with sky blue in an inscrutable, invisible connection, reaching the very depth of their hearts, piercing softly through their bonded souls.

"_How wonderful life is, now you're in the world."_

Kurt holds his breath, feeling that even the smallest movement could break the perfect stillness of this moment, and make this vision vanish in front of his eyes.

"I can't believe it", he manages to whisper in the end.

The man looks at him, the question lying unspoken in his eyes.

Kurt knows that this is the moment to say it out loud. What's the point of hiding it any longer? _I love you_. Three little words that start tickling his tongue, pushing against his lips to be freed.

But what if he was wrong? What if this is just an enormous, terrible mistake? Suddenly fear takes hold of his heart, as he bites his lip, insecure.

This man's smile, though. It's so confident and stunning. All Kurt needs is to look at it, to find the courage to let it all out.

"I'm in love", he whispers softly, "I'm in love with the man who will finance the show."

Blaine shakes his head a little, his smile becoming slightly confused. "Finance? I'm not financing the show. I'm writing the music."

Kurt's eyes open wide, as he steps back in shock.

"_What? Are you-"_

Words die on Kurt's lips, as someone knocks on the door.


	7. The Duke

Hi everyone!

Ivy speaking. Well then, here's a new chapter!

Before you go on reading, though, I have an announcement to make: next week I will be leaving for Germany and Croatia, and I won't be able to update. I will try, I swear, but it will be hard because, at least for the first three weeks, I will have to work, whereas in the other two I won't have the internet - at all.

I'm really, really sorry! I will make up for it somehow.

This said... Hope you like this chapter!

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_7 - The Duke_

As Kurt panics, Blaine stares, standing still and not knowing what to do. All the confidence he gained before fades away softly, as confusion takes over his mind.

"Where you waiting for someone?" he asks, scratching his head before crossing his arms, looking at the other man walking back and forth. Kurt stops suddenly and looks at him in the eyes, anger and anxiety lighting up those pieces of sky.

"Of course I was!" he snaps, "I was waiting for you- I mean, the Duke! And you're not the Duke and now the Duke is here and what am I going to do-"

"Hey, calm down!" Blaine tries to block him, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, failing miserably.

"_How can I calm down_? Why are you _here_ anyway?" Kurt shouts, and then pauses for a second. Suddenly, he seems to remember something, "Don't tell me- _Rachel_", he goes on, "Rachel brought you here, didn't she? God, I'm going to tear in pieces her photo with Barbra in front of her eyes when I get back home-"

A loud gasp stops them both. They gaze at the spot where the sound came from, puzzled and suspicious, and Blaine notices there's a balcony he hadn't seen at first; no one seem to be there, though. They both open their mouths, their eyes asking the same question, when a nasal voice coming from the corridor drags them back to reality.

"Kurt?"

The man's eyes open wide, as he shouts back. "Give me one moment, Sandy!"

Kurt looks feverishly around the room, grabbing a blanket from the bed. "_Hide! Quick!"_ he hisses, pushing Blaine down, behind the table where the champagne and food is; he is about to throw the blanket on top of him, when Sandy walks in, followed by another man.

"Are you ready to welcome the Duke, sweetie?" he asks, giving a suspicious look around the room, "Why did it take you so long?"

Kurt bites his lip, turning to face them quickly. Sandy almost certainly has noticed that the bed and the carpet are in a mess – God, _he _probably looks a mess, too. "I wanted to be… Well prepared", he says, trying desperately to sound convincing, without knowing what to do with the blanket he is still holding. Not having a better idea, he throws it on his bare shoulders, as if it was a cloak.

He then glances at Blaine, who is hiding behind the table, looking at the scene playing in front of his eyes as if it was some kind o movie. Kurt mouths him to hide better, before turning back to Sandy.

_Please don't ask questions,_ Kurt begs with his eyes, and the other man seems to understand, because even though he looks confused and not fully convinced he turns back to the man standing behind him.

"Dear Duke, I have the pleasure to introduce the sparkling diamond of the Moulin Rose, mister Kurt Hummel", he announces, gesturing at Kurt as if he was some kind of prize. Kurt swallows back the rage and the disdain that stab his chest every time Sandy shows him off this way, and tries to smile, staring at the Duke in the eyes.

So _this_ is the man he has to seduce.

His eyes wander over the flaxen blond, short, slicked back with gel hair, his sharp chin, his piercing gray eyes. The man stares back at him and suddenly Kurt feels violated, as if _he _could read right into the dark depths of his soul; he suddenly feels the urge to turn his eyes away, look somewhere else, hide himself from _him_.

But he doesn't. He can't.

"I am so glad you took time to come, sir", he affirms, holding his gaze with a confident smile.

The man's eyes look hungry and _dangerous_ as he answers, getting closer.

"I am afraid I will be the glad one by the end of this night, my dear", he says, his lips curved in a sly smile.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asks, looking with interest at the blanket that Kurt is still holding on his shoulders.

"I was- I-" Kurt bites his lips desperately, without knowing what to say. He has to make up something quickly and sound convincing, too, or the man will ask more questions and get suspicious, and he can't allow that; not when a stranger is hiding in his room. "I was shivering at the thought of meeting you, but now that you're here, the heat in this room is almost unbearable", he says, almost groaning, throwing the blanket behind him, right on top of Blaine's head. Blaine's cough of surprise is luckily covered by a squeak coming from the door, that makes them both turn and realise that Sandy is still there, covering his mouth with his folded hands, trying to suppress his giggles.

The Duke shoots him a dreadful glare. "Mr. Ryerson, you'd better go", he hisses.

Sandy bites his lip, with a big smile. "Of course. I will leave you two squirrels to get better acquainted", he says, before getting out the room with a deep bow and leaving them alone. The Duke turns to face Kurt again and smiles, before leaning towards him to lay a delicate kiss on Kurt's hand.

"_A kiss on the hand may be quite continental_" Kurt whispers, his eyes fixed on the man's figure.

"_But diamonds are a girl's best friend._ 'Gentlemen prefer blondes', 1953. I'm glad we have the same taste in music and theatre", the Duke says back.

Kurt forces his lips to smile, as he takes the man's jacket and hangs it on the wall, before sitting on the bed.

"After that breath taking performance of tonight you must be in need of refreshment", the Duke assumes, getting closer to the table.

Right where Blaine is hiding.

"No!" Kurt shouts suddenly, getting up almost instinctively, "I mean, I don't – You will probably like some champagne; why don't you enjoy the view, as I take care of you?" he babbles, trying to catch the other man's attention and move him away from Blaine's hiding place. He hopes his smile looks convincing, because from where he's standing he can see Blaine's head popping out from the table, and if he turns the Duke will see it, too.

"Erm… Charming. But you don't have to bother, I can do it by myself."

He is about to turn, when Kurt stops him again. "_Don't!"_ he screams. He tries to smile, but the angry look in the Duke's eyes is enough to tell him that he's annoying him now. Kurt's mind starts to race to find out something to do to distract him, to calm him down, to _keep him away from Blaine-_

"It's- It's a little bit… funny…." he whispers, trying to sound as needing and loving and _sincere_ as possible.

_Thank God_, Kurt thinks, as he sees the look in the man's eyes soften. "What is it?"

"This… feeling… inside", he goes on, glaring at Blaine, who is trying to peep from the table. God, is he _stupid_ or something? He will get caught if he doesn't pay attention to what he does, and then both of them will be screwed, can't he get something as simple as _that_? "I'm not one of those who can easily… _Hide!"_ he shouts, noticing that the other man is about to stand.

Blaine is caught off guard by the sudden change in Kurt's voice and lowers down all of a sudden, hitting his head against the table by mistake. The Duke is about to turn and Kurt knows he has to do something to stop him-

He gets closer quickly and puts his hands on the man's chest.  
"I don't have much money, but if I did, I'd buy a house where we both could live", he says, casting him an intense glance. The Duke looks still puzzled by the things he is saying, and Kurt knows he has to do something more, something greater, something that will leave him breathless. He leans his head on the side as to offer his neck to the Duke's lips, but he glares at Blaine instead, telling him to go away with a meaningful look. Blaine probably figures out that Kurt is doing this just to give him he opportunity to leave, and stands up, reaching slowly and silently the door.

"_I hope you don't mind_", Kurt starts singing, his voice soft and mellow and soaked in every ounce of sweetness he can give,_ "I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words", _he glimpses at Blaine, who is about to get out,_ "how wonderful life is now you're in the world_", he ends, staring at the other man.

To his own surprise, the Duke's icy eyes seem to be wrapped in a warm light, as they sparkle in fascination.

"That's… beautiful", he whispers, touching Kurt's cheek softly.

"Your Song, by Elton John", Kurt explains, "We will be singing it in Spectacular, Spectacular. I thought I understood the words but now, with you here, I can really _feel_ the meaning of them piercing my soul."

He wraps his arms around the Duke's neck, gesturing to Blaine to go. _Why does that idiot stay still? Why doesn't he just leave?_ "How wonderful life is now you're in the world", Kurt repeats.

"And what is that meaning, my dear?" the Duke asks, utterly stunned, with his eyes still glimmering in wonder.

In that moment, Blaine opens the door to walk out, giving a last glimpse at Kurt.

He didn't understand a thing of what has just happened, and doesn't like it. Kurt is clearly pretending that he's in love with this man, and is trying to seduce him, but why the hell should he? He called him 'Duke'. Does that mean that he's noble or something? The questions spinning inside his mind are so many that make him feel dizzy, and annoyed, too, because he knows he won't get an answer – at least, not until he meets Rachel.

He turns again and almost has a heart attack as he sees that there's a man standing in front of the door. The gun tied against his leg is enough to terrify him, and Blaine rushes back in, slamming the door almost instinctively.

Luckily Kurt reflexes are quick enough, and before the Duke can turn around he throws himself on the bed, whining almost hysterically.

"Don't you toy with my emotions, sir!" he cries out, pointing at him, sitting up again under the Duke's confused stare, "Obviously you know the effect your charms have on harmless men, and you keep me hanging on!" he shouts. Behind the man, Blaine is standing still, without knowing what to do or where to hide. _I have to do something, or that idiot won't move from where he's standing_, Kurt thinks, when suddenly an idea flashes through his mind. He grabs the man by his wrists, catching him off balance, and pulls him on top of his body. "Let's make love", he gasps, throwing back his head and wrapping his legs around the man's waist.

Blaine knows he should hide, go away, do something, but he can't move. He looks at Kurt under the Duke's body, and can't help feeling almost betrayed, as reproach starts to fill his eyes. He doesn't even know Kurt, after all, and what or _who_ he does is none of his business; why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt so much, then?

Kurt's voice drags him back to reality, and he blinks a few times, still petrified.

"You want to make love, don't you?" Kurt moans desperately, starting to rock his hips against the Duke's.

"Make love?"

"I knew you felt the same way!" Kurt cries out, licking his ear quickly, crashing the man's lips against his neck, still moving. He turns to Blaine, mouthing him to go away, but Blaine can't turn his eyes away. Kurt can see that there's something in them - something like reproach or betrayal. Pain stabs his chest like a cold knife, as he feels judged by this guy who doesn't ever know him, and feels he can't hold his gaze anymore. He turns his eyes away, starting to bite the man's ear and lick his neck, palming at his cock through the fabric of his trousers and resting the other on his chest, feeling his feverish heartbeat with relief more than satisfaction. _Perfect,_ he thinks. The fact that the other man is still there doesn't even bother him anymore, because anyway the drug will work and the Duke won't be a problem for him anymo-

Suddenly, Kurt remembers that the man hasn't drunk the champagne.

_Fuck. _

His mind starts to work faster than it ever did. He can almost feel the electricity darting through his brain, as he tries desperately to find a solution. The Duke's hands burn like hot iron on his skin, and icy fear fills his wide eyes.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

He turns to look at Blaine as a mute request of help, and he sees it.

Suddenly, he sees it.

The solution.

"You're right, we should wait until the opening night!" he cries out, suddenly pushing the Duke away and sitting up, trying to calm down. There's nothing to fear now. He knows what to do.

Blaine hides again. He doesn't know why Kurt has suddenly pushed that man away, but he can't help feeling satisfied about it, and he can't understand the reason that stands behind what he feels. He watches the scene taking place in front of his eyes, and sees that the Duke looks even more confused than he is right now.

"There's a power in you that scares me. I can't handle it", Kurt explains, laying a hand on his chest. The Duke seems to believe him, and is about to reach him on the bed again, but Kurt stops him and stands up.

"You should go".

He turns the Duke so that he faces the door, and starts to push him towards it.

"But I just got here!" the other man protests, indignant.  
"We must wait", Kurt says again, opening the door, looking at him as if he was explaining something simple and obvious, "We must wait until the opening night, or I won't be able to stop thinking about you and my acting will suffer from it."

The Duke tries to say something else, but Kurt doesn't give him the opportunity to do so. "Get out", he snaps, pushing him out with no delicacy at all.

As soon as the door is closed behind his back, he sighs with relief.

He is safe, now.

No one will hurt him.

He closes his eyes, breathing heavily, before pulling himself up again to face the other man, who has just come out from his hideout.

"Do you have any idea, any idea of what would have happened if he found you here?" he almost squeaks, the pitch of his voice getting higher and higher as he speaks. He stares at the other man, flying into a rage as he sees his calm smile. _How the hell can he be so composed?_

Adrenaline and anger make his heart beat faster, and air suddenly doesn't seem to fill his lungs anymore.

It's not long before his mind goes blank.

He gasps, and his eyes close before he can possibly hear the other man shouting "_Oh, not again!"_

Blaine's eyes open wide in panic, seeing Kurt faint for the second time tonight, but luckily he is able to grab him before he falls.

_God, what should I do now?_ he groans to himself, trying to shake Kurt slightly.

"Kurt… Wake up, Kurt! God, you looked lighter than what you actually are", he complains, as he tries to move his hand from Kurt's waist to his face, to pat him on the cheek. Kurt is too tall for him to support with just one arm, though, and they both fall heavily on the bed.

"Kurt, come _on_, for Christ's sake!" he begs, moving on top of him and taking his face between his hands, in a desperate and useless attempt to wake him up.

He doesn't notice that the door flings open, as the Duke appears in the room. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I left my ja-

Time seems to freeze, as the Duke stares at both, blinking blankly, and Blaine turns to look at him, eyes wide in fear.

It doesn't take long for the man to give himself his own explanation of the scene that is taking place in front of his eyes.

"_What the hell is going on here?"_ he hisses, his icy eyes bursting in cold flames of rage.

* * *

Hi again!

Just wanted to say goodbye... Promise you'll miss me!

Also, anyone leave a review? Pretty please? You would make me so, so happy!

Thank you, and see you in 5 weeks! Love you all!


	8. Spectacular, Spectacular

Hi there! I'm back!

Did you miss me? Did you? DID YOU?

Alright, I'll just leave you to read the chapter.  
Hope you like it! 3

* * *

His body feels heavy.

His mind feels blank.

His senses seem to wake up before his brain does. Soft, fresh sheets under him, something lying lightly on top of him. A warm light surrounds him and caresses his face, he can feel it beyond his closed lids.

Kurt opens his eyes slowly. Everything is out of focus; around him splashes of colour move and make sounds that he can't completely understand. He blinks a few times, and finally the world's outline appears clear in front of his blurry eyes.

A man is that "something" which is lying on top of him. Dark hair, a pair of ridiculous but awkwardly adorable triangular eyebrows and marvellous, deep, shining honey eyes.

That's Rachel's friend.

Why is he on top of him?

What the _hell_ is happening?

He turns his head towards the door a little, with a lot of effort. There is another man standing there, his fist clenched, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with clear rage.

_That's the Duke_, Kurt realises, as the confusion in his mind fades away.

"I'll say it one last time: _what the hell is going on here_?" the Duke almost shouts, grinding his teeth to keep his rage back. Kurt's eyes fling open, as he tries to find the voice to answer.

"Oh, Duke…" he whimpers.

"_It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside_, isn't it?" the man growls, casting them both a deadly look: he has seen the man who should be his lover and a stranger lying one on top of the other on a bed, and there's no doubt he is thinking that he has been cheated on. This is the only thing Kurt knows and understands about this whole situation; but he has to do something, or his whole career will be destroyed in front of his eyes as easily as a sand castle. Yes, he has to do something, and on his own, too, considering that the other man seem to have lost the ability to do anything but shake his head and stutter.

"Beautifully said, my Duke", Kurt purrs, his voice now steadier, sitting up slowly as Blaine moves away from him, "And the time couldn't be more exact. Let me introduce you… the writer".

"_The writer?_"

"Yes, of course. We were… rehearsing, as you can clearly see" Kurt explains, standing up and getting closer to the blond man, trying to look as sincere as possible.

Apparently, though, it's not enough: anger only grows in the man's eyes, as he moves one step forward towards them.

"Ha!" His laugh is sharp, fake, almost dreadful. "And you expect me to believe that on a bed, in the arms of another man, in the middle of the night, inside the Windmill of the Moulin Rose, you were _rehearsing_?"

"We- I-

"Why are you standing still, guys? You can't fool around, not when the time to rehearse is so little! In Broadway this wouldn't be allowed!"

The exclamation coming from behind them makes Kurt and Blaine jerk in surprise.

Standing in front of the balcony, hands on their hips, are Rachel, Tina, Mercedes and Santana, looking at them with a confident look. Kurt doesn't even have enough time to ask them, or even himself, how did they just appear in the room exactly when he needed them: the women immediately start to move and talk at the same time, creating a terrible confusion.

"From the top, guys, come on, hurry up!" Rachel shouts, clapping her hands and going towards the door.

"I hope the piano is already tuned!" Tina says, sitting in front of the instrument and playing a quick melody.

Mercedes stays behind them, as they turn again to face the other man. "Hell guys, are you with us? Wake up!"

Santana goes next to the Duke instead, and puts an arm around his shoulders. "Hi dude. Want to enjoy the show?"

The man spins around, his look becoming more and more puzzled as he watches the girls moving around him with confidence, as if they were actually used to this. This is the moment when he's weaker: he's confused, can't understand what is happening; at this point, Kurt's words could even be true to his eyes, and the young man knows that.

He has to take advantage of it. He gets closer to the Duke, eyes fixed in his to convince him, but not daring to touch him. "I was so inspired by our terribly short encounter, that I had to call my colleagues for an emergency rehearsal: I suddenly realised that we have so little time left before the opening night, that's the reason. I hope it doesn't bother you, my Duke".

"If it's a rehearsal, where's Ryerson, then?" the man asks, sharply. He's still suspicious and angry, but seems to be starting to believe him; the confidence in his eyes is about to shatter, and Kurt can see it. But what can he do now? The Duke has a point: of course Sandy would participate to any of their rehearsals, especially considering that he always wants to be included in every decision and meeting, even the silliest or smallest.

"Well, of course Sandy is-

"My dear Duke, I am _so terribly sorry_!"

Every head in the room turns towards the door, where suddenly Ryerson himself has appeared. Kurt doesn't really know whom to thank for the enormous, incredible luck he has had in the last couple of minutes, but if God exists, he's surely watching over him right now.

He gets in front of Sandy and fixes his eyes in his. _Please, Sandy, just back me up and don't ask questions_, he prays desperately with his look, hoping that he will understand. "Oh, Sandy! There's nothing to worry about, the Duke already knows everything about the _emergency rehearsal_", he says, pronouncing clearly the last two words, casting him a meaningful look.

"The emergency rehearsal?" Ryerson repeats, as if to fix the words in his mind.

"Yes, the one we are doing to incorporate the Duke's artistic ideas", Kurt explains, turning to the Duke to give him a knowing smile. When the man smiles back with the same smirk, as if they were both hiding a dirty little secret, the young artist understands he has won the battle. He has convinced the financer, he and the other man are out of danger now.

It's hard to stop a sigh of relief from coming out of his lips, but he somehow manages to keep his façade up.

"And", Kurt adds, casting Blaine a quick look, "that he has already met the new composer, and is extremely keen to invest".

"Invest? _Invest_!" Sandy exclaims, slowly realising what that means, "that's absolutely amazing, my Duke. So why don't we go in my office and… get the paperwork done?" he then suggests with a smile, turning towards the door, ready to leave.

"What's the story?"

Sandy turns to stare at him again, together with the rest of the people standing in the room.

"I'm… sorry?"

"What's the story? If I have to invest, I need to know the story", the Duke explains, crossing his arms and looking at Ryerson with a defiant attitude.

Sandy opens his eyes wide, gazing at Rachel, trying to hide the fear and confusion in his eyes behind a terribly fake smile.

"O-Of course, the story", he babbles, "The story- Rachel?"

"The story, dear colleagues", Rachel starts, moving a step forward as she speaks, with a confidence she doesn't feel at all, "is about- it is- it's about-

"_Love!_"

Seven pairs of eyes turn to stare at Blaine, who has just spoken, in shock.

"Love?" the Duke repeats, disgust filling his eyes.

"Love", he repeats, his voice softening, "Love overcoming every obstacle".

Blaine can almost feel an arrow of cold disdain coming from the man's eyes and penetrating his heart, but right now, he couldn't care less, because Kurt is looking at him.

Yes, Kurt is looking at him in the eyes, but there's _more_ – he's staring right in the depths of his bare soul, piercing through his body and mind with those beautiful fragments of morning sky.

Blaine stares back, and can't help smiling – somehow, this man he barely knows has the ability to make happiness rise in his heart, and grow until he can't hold it back anymore, or keep it inside. Perhaps it's the chemistry there's between them, perhaps it's the bond he feels with him; Blaine can't give it a name, but he knows for sure that it's something new, and it's something great.

_This could be the start of a beautiful friendship_, he says to himself, as his eyes light up with joy, before Rachel interrupts his flow of thoughts.

"It's set in Switzerland!" she says with a bright smile, clearly expecting her audience to applaud her brilliant idea. Blaine notices the outrage storming in the Duke's eyes before the woman does, though, and knows he has to say something else to impress the man.

_Come on, Blaine, find something_, he thinks frantically as the man slowly repeats "Switzerland?"

"Chic Switzerland!" Sandy corrects, in a desperate attempt to save the situation.

_A chic city, a chic city, a chic city-_

"Paris!" he cries out. As the Duke turns towards him again, he repeats, slowly and more clearly, "It's set in Paris, in 1900".

A sigh of relief pouts from his lips as he sees the financer's face soften. "Paris is a perfect setting, I must agree with you on this point. Extremely beautiful city. And?"

Blaine turns to look at Kurt again, as if he was talking to him exclusively. An ecstatic smile curves his lips, as his eyes get lost far away from the man and this room, far from this time and space, along the roads of Montmartre.

"There's a can-can dancer", he starts to tell, walking slowly towards Kurt, "The most beautiful can-can dancer in the whole world".

Suddenly he turns to stare right at the Duke, excitement filling his heart and almost _pouring_ from his lips and eyes. "But the club in which he works is owned by an evil woman, who threats the can-can dancer to get him killed if he doesn't become her lover. The night when the two must lie together for the first time, there's a misunderstanding, and the man sleeps with the club's new singer instead. The two fall inexorably in love, and-

Suddenly Rachel runs up to Kurt, and takes him by his hands. They interlace fingers, as she trills, "_I_ will be the _gorgeous_ new singer, of course!"

"-And they have to hide their love from the evil club owner", Blaine goes on, ignoring the thrilled woman.

"And the singer's voice is magical, and can evoke a beautiful, mystical creature, that can only speak the truth", adds Tina shyly.

Mercedes snaps her fingers with a movement of her head. "I will be the creature. There's nothing more mystical that this body in a fairy costume, believe you me!"

That's the moment when Sandy decides that he hasn't spoken for too long, and has to cut in on the conversation. "It will capture the thrusting, violent, vibrant, wild Bohemian spirit that this whole production embodies, my dear Duke!" he exclaims, getting closer to a now pretty disturbed and uncomfortable Duke, making him step back.

"And what do you mean by that?" he dares to ask after a few seconds of silence.

"I mean that the show will be a magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement! A _sensual ravishment_" Sandy almost groans, and then continues, "it will be… _Spectacular, spectacular_!"

"That's the name of the show, Mr. Duke", Tina points out.

"And it defines it perfectly! No words can describe how simply _great_ this event will be", Rachel adds, holding her hands to her heart.

"You'll be dumb with wonderment, I swear".

"And returns could be fixed at 10%, that's excellent, you must agree with me".

"Not to forget, my dear Duke", Kurt affirms, walking slowly towards the shaken, but now pretty interested man, "that you will of course be involved artistically".

Pushed by the young man, the Duke sits on a chair next to the refreshments table, staring with wide eyes as the company starts moving frantically around him, enacting parts of the show, describing him how simply fantastic it will be. The room itself seem to start spinning, giving him a terrible headache but amusing him in some way.

"It will be so exciting, I can barely imagine it!"

"The audience will like it so much that they will stomp and cheer, you'll see!"

"And so delighting, too!"

"_Hell_, if they don't run it for at least fifty years, I will stop eating tots, I swear".

"Have I already said that it will be extremely exciting?"

"At least four times, Gayberry. As every other thing that comes out of your mouth".

"Would you stop it you too, for once, and just imagine how marvellous it will be? Just picture yourself the wonderful Paris…"

"You know that the city won't just teleport in the theatre, don't you, Kurt?"

"I was just imagining, Mercedes. Just- oh my God, the can-can dancers' costumes! _I_ have to make them. I need to".

"And think about the special effects to create the entry of the magical creature! Artie will be thrilled to organize that".

"Let's talk about _my_ songs instead. They have to be a challenge; they will make use of my vocal range from the highest note to the lowest, won't they, Blaine? After all, I am the protagonist".

"Actually, the main character is Ku-

"_Escuchame bien_, Barbra, because I will say this only once. _World doesn't revolve around you and your enormous ego_, and if you refuse to get something as simple as that, I will give you a small taste of Lima Heights hospitality".

"Could we get back to the show, please, guys?"

"Tina has a point. We're trying to convince the Duke, remember?"

"The Duke!"

"Why, he's still here?"

"Dear Duke, please forgive them. They are artists, and a pinch of madness is of course rooted in their soul".

"I can definitely see that", the Duke snaps, hating the fact that they so easily forgot of being in his presence. He is almost tempted to say something else, but he decides to keep quiet. After all, these people are his future _pet_'s friends, and as long as he wants to keep him around, he has to cope with all of them.

"Yes, but what happens in the end?" he decides to ask instead.

The company seems to freeze entirely, and the attention focuses almost automatically on Blaine. He looks around before fixing his eyes in the Duke's.

"The dancer and the singer are pulled apart by an evil plan", he explains with wide gestures, as Kurt and Rachel hold hands and look at each other almost desperately, enacting the play. He opens his mouth to speak, but to Blaine's own surprise Kurt interrupts him.

"But in the end, he hears her song…" he starts, turning towards him and fixing his eyes in his. Blaine doesn't know what has taken him, but he just can't look away as he continues.

"And their love is just too strong" he whispers, almost unconsciously, as if he was talking to Kurt and Kurt alone.

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside", the Duke says, remembering the words that Kurt had said him before, breaking the enchanted silence that the bond between the two men had created in the room.

"Exactly, that's the song", the young man affirms, forcing himself to look away from Blaine's honey eyes.

The Duke nods, looking pleased, as Blaine continues.

"The singer's secret song helps them flee the evil owner", he goes on, as next to him the whole company acts the scene, "and even though the tyrant rants and rails against them, it's no use".

"I am the evil owner of the club, and you will not escape!" Sandy shouts, moving behind the two 'desperate lovers' and grabbing them by their arms.

"Erm, Sandy, of course no one could play it like you could-

"But even though you dress in pink and keep creepy porcelain dolls in your bedroom you are not a woman, and I definitely don't need to check, thank you. I will be the evil owner, and if anyone of you is against it, I will go all Lima Heights on their sorry asses, got it?"

Kurt turns to look at Santana, who has just spoken, and sighs. "Who could portrait an evil character better than the devil itself?" he says, with a shrug.

Sandy crosses his arms with flames dancing in his eyes, but doesn't know what to answer back, and stays silent.

The Duke tries to hide his smirk behind a composed face, but he is clearly amused by this ridiculous group of people.

Actually, he is intrigued by this whole production. He knows he is financing just a couple of kids, with no professional work behind their backs, but something sparkling in their eyes attracts him like a warm light. With their ambition they seem to remind him a younger self, when he believed he could surpass his father and take over the family company using his only ability. He wants to know how far this people can get before understanding that by playing fair, you don't achieve anything in this disgusting life.

And then there's Kurt. Kurt, this beautiful, celestial young man that makes him shiver with lust, that tempts him with his crystal voice and his sultry movements. He is a damned tempter trapped in the body of a pure angel, and it makes him itch with the desire to foul him, to stain this luminous perfection.

_Yes_, the Duke thinks, _it's just an itch. I simply have to scratch it, and it will fade away. _

He doesn't speak for some minutes, pretending to think about the show, enjoying the looks of anxiety and waiting that he can see on these kids' faces.

"Generally, I like it", he sighs in the end.

The room falls silent for an instant, as everyone absorbs the simple sentence and understand its meaning entirely.

Then the world seems to turn upside down, as joy and excitement explode in a storm of cries and laughter.

* * *

And that's the end of it.

Really hope you liked it, after having waited for a month and a half!

It's pretty chaotic, I know... I wanted to recreate the "nonsense-atmosphere" that the scene "Spectacular, Spectacular" has.

The dialogues are basically a readjustment of the song, if you noticed!

The show's plot... I didn't take it from the movie, because it just didn't feel _right_. Paris, this elegant city, seems to suit the Duke more, in my opinion. The plot is partly based on Moulin Rouge itself; the setting and time, the can-can dancers, and so on.

And i just wanted to put some Hummelberry in.

Because, guys, come on. Hummelberry.

It's like, my OTFriendship? Love them so much 3

Please leave a review! You would make me feel so so happy and appreciated 3


	9. My name's Blaine

So, well. It took a while, but here it goes, chapter 9!

Sorry for the delay, but suddenly I didn't seem to be able to write in English anymore. I *really* hope this chapter doesn't sound like a bad translation from Italian to English, because that's what it was at first. So well... Here it goes!

BTW, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. Me feels intelligent.

* * *

They party all night, back in the attic over Blaine's apartment. Music thumps hard in the air, hitting the walls, shaking the floor as people dance, drink, cheer. Santana and Brittany are making out on the couch and Rachel has wrapped her arms around Artie and is now calling him Finn, while Mercedes dances around them, a bottle of beer in each hand.

Blaine can't see any of this, though. Head against the cold glass, he is crawled up against the window of his apartment, staring with longing eyes at the big windmill across the road. As he can see from there, the lights in the highest room are still on: apparently, Kurt is not sleeping yet.

Kurt.

He is the reason why Blaine is not celebrating with his friends upstairs. He tried to dance, laugh, sing with them, but he just _couldn't_; everything in his mind is Kurt's eyes, Kurt's smile, Kurt's hands, _Kurt_. Why did he act like he was in love with him, and what kind of relationship is there between him and the Duke? And why does _he_, Blaine, who has just met him, even care?

Then there's the mystery around the whole Moulin Rose. To Blaine, it seemed just a nightclub as any other; where did the bad reputation come from?

He needs an answer, and he needs it now, or Blaine feels his head will explode because of all the questions storming and flashing inside of it.

He stands up, grabs a coat and walks through the door.

The decision is taken. He will talk to Kurt.

Back in his room inside the windmill, Kurt is sitting on the edge of his bed, and looks in front of him. On his bedside table stands a cage, and a canary is resting inside of it.

"Life's really complicated, isn't it, Pavarotti?" he asks, softly, as if the small bird could understand his words. "You know, sometimes I wish I had wings, just like you, to fly away from the Duke, from Sandy, from money. I could fly away from everything..."

He pauses, as he tastes the thought of freedom on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't need wings to run away; after all, he has enough money to go back to Lima, find a job there, stay with his family.

But that's not what he wants. He has a dream, and that's the only future he can picture himself in. It gives him the strength to go on, to bear the pain and put up with the humiliation; sacrifice makes success sweeter, and Kurt knows that.

But how long will he have to suffer? When will success come?

He turns to Pavarotti again, and sighs. "Besides, you're in my same situation, aren't you? You're blocked in this gilded cage as much as I'm blocked in this pink windmill".

He sighs again, before standing up and attempting to smile, and picks up the cage carefully and delicately, in order not to scare the bird. "I need some fresh air, Pavarotti. Let's go upstairs, shall we?"

Kurt walks outside his room, on the balcony. On the left, a flight of stairs goes round the higher part of the windmill, ending right on the top of the Moulin Rose, with a terrace. There's a white sofa and a wooden table, nothing more and nothing less; sometimes his clients want to go there to drink something, before Kurt does... what he has to do. Usually, though, that's his secret place, where he goes every time he needs to clear his thoughts between rehearsals.

He lays the cage on the table, and walks straight to the edge of the terrace. No handrail is there to hold onto: it's just him and a 33 feet jump. He stares at the lights under him, the cars running on the road, the people passing by, before speaking again.

"It would be so simple, wouldn't it?" he says out loud, apparently talking to no one but the starless sky towering over him. His voice suddenly becomes a whisper.

"One more step forward, and I would fly. Just like you, Pavarotti. I would be..._free_".

His lips tremble, and he wraps his arms around his waist, as to protect himself from his own words. His mind suddenly runs to David Karofsky, that guy in his high school that used to bully him, and that after being outed and bullied tried to suicide. "I'm not that kind of person, though; I would never do anything like that. I will fight, Pavarotti, just as I always did, and one day I'll fly away, I promise".

As he takes a step back, a song suddenly flashes through his mind; it's a long lost melody that had lived hidden under dusty memories, until now, something that his mother used to sing to him as a lullaby. Before he can even realise it, he is singing the words softly, to himself.

"_I follow the night, can't stand the light_", he begins, closing his eyes. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost feel his mother's light touch on his cheek. "_When will I begin to live again?_"

His voice becomes stronger, as he reaches the chorus. "_One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday..._"

Yes, he will.

One day he'll fly away and finally, finally pain will belong to the past alone; every bad memory will be locked in a dark corner of his mind and he will never have to think about it again. One day he will triumph, he will be happy, he will be free.

One day.

"_What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?_" he sings. His mind suddenly goes to the writer - what was his name again? Kurt isn't sure the guy has even told him. The writer's voice starts playing together with his own in an imaginary duet in Kurt's head, as he feels the taste of his skin on his lips, remembers the sparkle in his eyes as he sung for him...

"_Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends?_"

He fills these words with all the power, all the strength, all the desperation he is capable of, because he knows that right now happiness is nothing more than an illusion, for him. He jumps from dream to dream, just as the song says, closing his eyes and shutting his own self when bad times come. What else could he do, anyway, to survive?

"_One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. Why love life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?_".

He opens his eyes again, staring right into the starless night, as he ends the song. "_One day I'll fly away. Fly, fly away_".

"That was amazing"

Kurt gasps in fear, twirling round. "Who's there?" he asks out loud, and stares in the darkness to find out who has just spoken, instinctively tensing his muscles.

"It's me! Blaine!" the same voice exclaims, and a figure comes out of the shadow. Kurt's eyes open wide as he realises that standing there in front of him, looking at him with a friendly smile, is the writer. _Oh, so his name's Blaine._

His heart starts thumping furiously inside his chest, as the man moves closer staring at him right in the eyes, and his head spins. Blaine - his name sounds like music to Kurt's ears - came just for him, just for Kurt. Does he want to confess him his love properly? Will they share a beautiful, delicate kiss? Singing a romantic duet would be wonderful, too. Words start crowding in his mind and get stuck in his throat as he decides what to say first.

"How did you get here?"

_God, Kurt._

_Be more pathetic, I dare you._

Blaine shrugs. "Rachel told me about the fire escape that ends on your balcony. That's how they appeared in your room before, they were- spying on us, actually. _The whole time_".

Kurt blushes immediately, because he knows what _that_ means. They have seen him as he- _oh Gaga, what are they going to think now_?

"Actually, about that..." Blaine starts, avoiding his eyes and curving his lips in an embarrassed smile.

Kurt doesn't like the way he said that simple sentence.

He doesn't like it _at all_.

And _why _does he look so _ashamed_?

"It's hard to say this", Blaine goes on, "but... I would like to be your friend. Perhaps it's because you're Rachel's friend, but I have the feeling I really, really care about you, Kurt, and I don't want to screw up what could be a beautiful frie-

No.

No, no, no.

Kurt doesn't want to hear this.

He doesn't want to hear _any_ of this.

He turns his gaze away because tears start dwelling in his eyes, as realisation hits is mind abruptly.

He made it up in his mind.

_Everything._

He should've expected it; it seems that after all, he doesn't deserve a chance to be happy.

He can't even feel desperate about it, right now, or angry or even sad.

Actually, he doesn't feel anything at all.

He has been disappointed so many times by his fucking life, that he can't help feeling simply _numb_.

It's just another dream that shatters into a thousand pieces, after all.

It's not like he isn't used to it.

Blaine stumbles in his own words, as he tries to explain to Kurt that he doesn't want to be his boyfriend, because they don't even know each other; it's extremely hard, though, because he is terribly afraid of hurting Kurt's feelings, and it's the last thing he wants to do; so when Kurt turns his look away from him, he is terrified that he'll start crying.

But Blaine finds out that his empty eyes are much more scary than a flood of tears.

"I'm afraid there was a terrible misunderstanding, Blaine", Kurt says. His voice is flat, emotionless, and sends an icy shiver down Blaine's back. His eyes, those precious gems that before were shining in colour, are now nothing more than opaque glass. Why is Kurt suddenly so distant? "What happened before - It wasn't meant to happen with _you_. I mistook you for the Duke, and I am extremely sorry about that", the other man goes on, "so please forget everything".

Blaine stares at Kurt, as his mind slowly processes this information.

Kurt isn't in love with him.

An icy-cold feeling spreads from his chest to his whole body, leaving him forceless, almost exhausted. He should feel relieved, shouldn't he?

Then why does it _hurt_?

"What's your relationship with the Duke, then?" he asks, abruptly. "I-I mean, you did _those things_ to him and you didn't even know what he _looks like_, considering that you thought it was me", he babbles immediately, realising that he has just literally snapped at the man, with that question.

Kurt leans his head to the left a little, confusion clearly filling his eyes. "You don't know?" he asks, sincerely puzzled.

Blaine blinks rapidly. "What should I know?"

Kurt's eyes open wide in surprise. Blaine doesn't know a thing about his job, about the Duke, not even about the Moulin Rose, apparently.

Blaine doesn't know _anything_.

Relief fills his heart, and he feels so light, and it's so sudden, that he can't help it. He bursts into laughter in front of Blaine's completely lost eyes, and the more the other man looks confused, the harder he laughs, and he just can't stop.

"I'm so sorry, it's just that- you don't know a single thing about what's going on here!" he manages to say in the end, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.

"I figured that out, and it's not really nice, you know"

"It's _wonderful_!"

"You have a weird sense of what's wonderful, Kurt", Blaine snorts, crossing his arms.

Kurt can do nothing about it. He knows he's really pissing off the man right now, because he's being extremely rude, but it's so _amazing_ to meet someone who doesn't know anything about his reputation, whose prejudice doesn't block him from being - or _push_ him to be - his friend. Actually, everything makes more sense now - that's why he talked about his job so plainly before, that's why he was so confused by what was happening around him. Blaine considers him just a performer - how long has it been, since someone has thought of him just that way?

"Alright, alright, I will explain everything to you", Kurt smiles, and sits on the sofa, gesturing to Blaine to do the same.

"What _do_ you know about the Moulin Rose?" he asks.

"Well", Blaine pauses, thinking about it, "I know that it's a nightclub, I know that it's outrageously pink" Blaine smiles, enjoying the small chuckle that has just come out from Kurt's lips "and... I know that it has an awful reputation". His voice lowers suddenly as he says this, and he feels the urge to reassure the man, because he doesn't want to offend him as he did with the girls before. "But Mercedes has told me that it's absolutely not like that, and this isn't a bordello or anything".

Blaine notices the sigh of relief that comes out of Kurt's lips, but doesn't say anything about it. "That's pretty much everything I know" he ends.

Kurt crosses his legs, and taps his lower lip with an index, deciding what to say first. There's so much to say about the Moulin Rose, so much about it's history and so much about himself...

"Well, the Moulin Rose is, as you said, a nightclub, but it has a characteristic that makes it different from every other club. Do you know where the bad reputation comes from?" he begins, and waits for Blaine to shake his head before he goes on. "It's because every dancer here is an entertainer, too".

"Entertainer?" "Yes. It means people come here, pay, and they get to spend the evening with one of the performers, dancing, drinking, some people even want the entertainers to dedicate the songs they sing to them. They don't do anything more, it's just... having fun together. There are a lot of lonely people out there, Blaine, more than what you can think of. We give company to those who usually don't have company; it's sad, but it saves people, you know".

"Isn't it a bit like selling yourself, though?" Blaine asks, but he looks so sincerely curious, that Kurt refuses to find any malice in his words.

"No, it's not. You don't sell yourself, you sell your _time_, and time, Blaine, unlike people, does have a price".

Blaine nods. After all, it does make sense, and there's nothing wrong about it. It's sad, just as Kurt said, but it's better spending a happy evening with someone under payment rather than getting drunk or going on drugs or something even worse because you feel alone.

"What else?" Kurt goes on, "The more you are requested, the more people have to pay to be with you. Quite easy and quite obvious".

"And how much do people have to pay to be with _you_?" Blaine grins, leaning slightly towards him and staring at him right in the eyes.

Uh-oh. And there it goes, the malice.

Kurt's heart starts pounding at an exaggerated pace as he gets lost in Blaine's eyes. He really hopes he didn't flush, because he feels a sudden heat in his whole body and he can't pretend he doesn't know where it comes from, but there's no way he'll show Blaine, and it's for this reason that he keeps his eyes fixed in the man's, and curves his lips in the tiniest of smiles.

"Let's say that I'm the most expensive among all of them", he whispers.

Oh, God, they started _flirting_.

Kurt would punch himself in the face if it didn't ruin his perfect skin, because Blaine has _just_ pretty clearly told him that he doesn't like him in that way, and now they are flirting, _outrageously_ flirting, and this isn't okay.

It's definitely not okay.

Thankfully, Blaine breaks the moment, turning his grin into a teasing smirk and tapping his shoulder slightly. "So you _do_ have a price".

"I _don't_ have a price, my _time_ has a price, I believe I already explained that to you", Kurt snaps, but he can't help smiling.

It's so nice, being able to joke about what he does with someone, even though he doesn't know the whole truth. His friends - the ones who know - never even mention his job, because they're afraid of hurting him, of saying something wrong. He doesn't blame them, of course, how could he? But he can't help finding frustrating the tensed atmosphere that forms every time he gets in a room; the pity in everyone's eyes. It's just like a handicap - no one ever realises that what he wants is just to be treated like everyone else.

"What about the Duke, though?" Blaine asks at some point. Kurt shrugs, as he answers.

"Just one of the clients", he answers vaguely, with nonchalance.

"You seemed quite... intimate with him, for him just to be a client", Blaine points out.

Kurt sighs, closing his eyes for an instant. "Alright, he is a _very special_ client. As you surely have understood, he will finance our show, and the only way to convince him... was _that_ way", he admits, in the end, turning his eyes away. Blaine doesn't say anything, and Kurt realises that he probably thinks horrible things about him now. How couldn't he, after all? Kurt practically confessed that he was about to have sex with someone just in order to have him finance something - it's selling oneself.

If only Blaine knew...

When he turns to look back at the man, he finds him staring blankly right in the darkness.

"I don't blame you, if you think I'm cheap", Kurt says in the end, just because he can't take anymore the silence that has created between them. Blaine is judging him; Blaine will think what everyone thinks about him, and he hates it. He hates that his life is nothing more than one disappointment after the other, he hates that he can't make friends with anyone here, in New York, because people think they know him.

It takes a while for Blaine to answer, but when he does, he leaves Kurt utterly speechless.

"What you do, it's none of my business. I don't know you or what goes on in you mind, and most of all I don't know why you take some decisions; I have no right to judge, and neither does anyone. I don't think you're cheap, Kurt".

Suddenly he stands up, and turns at Kurt with the brightest of all smiles, eyes shining like pure gold. "And besides... You're the one who said you're the most expensive among them all", he teases.

Kurt's mouth hangs open, as he stares at Blaine, eyes wide in shock.

_I don't think you're cheap, Kurt._

These words keep playing in his head, as tears start dwelling in his eyes. No one had ever said him anything like that, because no one ever talked with him _about_ that.

He feels something rising in his chest, some kind of heat - no, it isn't heat. It's _warmth_. It's sweet, and rocks him in a soft embrace, and it's so pleasant that Kurt wants it to never end.

"Do you have a pen and something to write on?" Blaine asks suddenly. Kurt gives a tentative nod, but doesn't speak: he's afraid that if he opens his mouth, he'll start crying shamelessly.

"Here's what we'll do: I'll give you my number, and you can call me if you need anything, alright? Everyone needs someone, Kurt", he says, staring at him as if he was piercing his whole heart and soul.

Kurt has to bite his lower lip, because it has started trembling furiously. Fighting back those tears that push on the corner of his eyes is becoming harder and harder; because Blaine understood him, accepted him, lent him a hand, and he doesn't even _know_ him.

Blaine saved him.

In a few seconds, this _stranger _saved him from drowning in the dark depths of loneliness.

Blaine seems to understand that he's about to cry, and walks towards the staircase, going down a few steps. Knowing that Blaine's eyes aren't on him anymore Kurt lets a few, grateful and shocked tears run down his cheeks, trying his best to swallow down any sob. He'll wait that Blaine's gone to lose it.

He _needs_ to lose it.

He wipes away those few tears and stands up, grabbing Pavarotti's cage with one shaking hand. That's the moment when he sees that Blaine is waiting for him, even though he's looking away; Kurt follows Blaine on the staircase, stopping right behind him, because the man still doesn't move.

"You know what?" Blaine asks suddenly, turning towards him excitedly, "Let's have a fresh start".

"A fresh start?" Kurt manages to ask, even though his voice still trembles a little.

"A fresh start. A fresh start in which I didn't break in your room and you didn't try to do me without even knowing me", he winks.

"_Excuse me_?" Kurt asks again, because he really can't see where this is going.

That's the moment when Blaine holds out his hand with a smile that could light up the whole New York City.

"My name is Blaine".

Kurt looks at him in confusion. "I know".

The man shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle, and puts his hand down. "No, Kurt, you don't. We have never met each other. Fresh start, remember?"

Kurt needs a few seconds before he understands what the other man means, but when he does, he is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say. He nods instead, and Blaine says, "Let's do this again".

He holds out his hand for the second time, that breath-taking smile never leaving his lips.

"My name is Blaine".

Kurt stares at his hand, almost amazed, before reaching out to shake it.

"Kurt."

* * *

I really hope you liked it! It's full of quotes from both S2 and S3, if you noticed :D

BTW, the song Kurt sings is "One Day I'll Fly Away", by Nicole Kidman.

Reviews always make me happy and bright my day :D


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